by Quinn Collard
Gathering daisies and violets when you wrapped your arms around me,
A fissure in the earth swallowing us both.
You gave me six pomegranate seeds,
And, desperate for sustenance, I took them.
Now until the stars plummet to their deaths
I must always come back to you,
The souls of the lost swirling around me,
The sun a forgotten dream.
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It's always interesting to see how a poet (or other artist) reworks a myth. This summer my husband and I saw a performance reworking this same myth in which husband and wife were feeding each other nectarines.
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