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PoetryMagazine.com
Since 1996 Volume XXI Susan Terris
Death of Boreas
Daughter, I am writing you from the banks of
the River Styx. In my hand are coins for Kharon.
But I don't have coins over each eye blinding me,
so I know Boreas is here also, purple-winged,
defeated, his hair and beard splintered with ice.
I am coming for you, at last, Kore,
with apologies for the eons it’s taken
to warm the globe. Now, with the death
of Winter we will be eternally reunited.
These days there are no pomegranates; and I
hope you won’t mind the heat or dearth of
apples, of honey. Your summer togas are waiting.
(*Persephone’s other
name is Kore,
meaning the maiden.)
©
Copyright, Susan Terris. |