Pomegranate

Look at me, Lady,
Persephone bright.
Here I hang, just for you,
come now, take a bite!
I've not long to go
'fore I'm dead and gone too,
like all these poor souls
'cepting Hades…and you?
Are you lost, little flower,
down here in the dark,
with nary a breeze
nor the chirp of a lark?
Why think you of mother
why think you of home,
when Hades your lover,
the breaker of stone
the bender of time
the warper of way
the life of the night
the death of the day,
would bow at your feet
and come at your call–
why not think of this,
or of nothing at all?
I say this is why:
you're famished, I know,
so savor four seeds
while Earth shivers in snow.
Now here comes Hermes
to fetch you away.
But I know Zeus' heart:
he'll say you must stay.
One month for each seed,
eight long months above
'fore you come back to Hades'
unwaivering love.
Now my work is done,
skin pierced and seeds scattered,
and all for to settle
this one simple matter.
Lean near, Persephone,
for now you'll hear why:
you see, I loved too
in days now gone by,
as lad may love maid
and maid may love lad.
T'ween Demeter and Hades
there's love to be had,
so share now and give
all you have, and you'll see,
with all the gods' grace,
how soon you'll thank me.