Dark, dank Pandora pried open the handles and let the blackbirds and the

bluebells and the plague all out, the crops with their locusts and the

bare cradles where golden infants used to sleep, but now it’s certain

they were / sold for slaughter

Persephone, bent over the barrel, sure before it was a baby but now

it’s

a message

a small piece of folded parchment, drops out of her mouth

into milky hand

says

you were raped.

The smoke from husband Hades’ cigar was blue with disregard for the truth

He spits out the apple seed, and out of the dying soil grows a tiny heart that shrivels beneath his iron hoe.