29

Persephone on Women’s Lib

Ah Kore, Kore. What can you know of him,

weaving on your airy loom?

Or Ceres of the ripened wheat, who wear

twelve stars cincturing your hair?

The dark lord on his dark throne broods apart

from the Sun (all-seeing of heart)

and shields his dark will from the hunting Eye

in caverns hidden from the sky.

So I who spin the world’s protean wheel

and wear each face, stamping my seal

on avatars as separate as each deed,

reach now for a pomegranate seed.