Winter fest

by David Appelbaum

I want to say dark
where paint peels
a silent drum
to stem the greed

dark isn’t evened
dwelling bound
to fire kindled
in habit cloth

dark whose sense
jangles loose
in a deep pocket
apron of care

dark open pith
curls paper about
the carnal crown—
a dead thing

Persephone

by David Appelbaum

and do you, Demeter
she’s about to walk
naked in the north wind
enrobed in might
surely Celestine
to underworld eyes

what will you bring
an eye to spy
with nectar and laurel
while they to Hypnos

now leaves wither
to hide your ash
and soon your howl
with the jackals

night bees swarm
unaware of menace