Poem: Demeter

This is actually a response to a poem my mother wrote, titled, yes, "Persephone"...I'll have to see if I can find it. When "Demeter" was published, she flew up to Seattle to surprise me at the reading. She had never heard the complete poem before that. 

 

My mama makes the earth breathe.
She has magic--
lightning in her fingertips--
my mama makes the earth breathe.

My mama kisses the air with
pomegranate lips,
watches with jade eyes,
the tight curls of her hair
a small hazelnut ocean.

My mama kneads the earth
as if making bread,
her strong oval knuckles
pushing towards the center
rolling, shaping it as she will,
dusting every so often with snow,
baking just so.

My mama has many tongues.
She speaks in soft tones
tends her many pupils,
coaxing the ivory daisy,
the creamy yellow buttercup,
tutors the struggling wheat,
the uneducated plants with
wild dreams:
the useful cabbage
wants to be
a dainty rose.

When my mama is angry,
she don't teach none.
She sends her flowers home to the soil.
Mortals get hungry--
Watch out!
My mama's teachin' a diff'rent kind of lesson.

You shoulda seen her,
all fierce and fiery,
when I went below.
Her jades clouded over,
shoulders shakin',
fingers tremblin' and sparkin'.
She swore she would teach no more
--T'aint no use now that Persi's gone--
her students withered,
dropped out of school and disappeared.

Now what good is an earth
that ain't got a mama to care?

Uncle Zeus sat in his easy chair,
all Lazy Boyed out,
his great big toes a-brushing at the stars.
He don't like to be bothered,
and this brown withered earthball
got him hot and scratchy.
Zeus started growing a beard.
He started thinkin' and thinkin',
getting wiser and wiser,
his whiskers longer and grayer.
He'd yell at my mama:
Git out there and teach them damn things to grow!

Mama caught Uncle’s silver eyes.
Her lips barely moved,
her voice rolled like thunder—
GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER!
No one had ever said no to Zeus before,
and he didn't quite know what to do.
His tangled hair sparked with electricity.
Ain't no teacher-goddess gonna ruin his pretty meadows,
starvin' his lusty wood nymphs into bony twigs.

Zeus lined up his clouds in their grayblack uniforms,
soldiers stretched across the sky.
They each received a little sliver of lighting
to cut their waterbellies open with.
Mama stood in the fields, ready for the torrent,
her head held defiantly, daring her brother to strike.
I, goddessmother, will the seasons and the growth.
I will not let you disrespect my daughter.

Days and nights of rain.
Mama never moved,
even though her hair whipped about her face so hard
her cheeks bled crimson tears.
Zeus, desperate to break her,
even got cousin Apollo to shine longer and harder.
It was no use.
There was no one to teach.
Mama had licked 'im.

Auntie Hera dressed Mama's wounds,
made chamomile tea and hot buttermilk biscuits
smothered in raspberry preserves.
Auntie had robin's egg eyes,
hair that raged with fire,
which was either piled above her ears with gold pins
or hung in loose waves against her graceful spine.
She kept her neck dripping with pearls,
her fingers heavy with diamonds,
her shoulders draped in fur,
her lips lipsticked,
her eyes shadowed,
her cheeks rouged.
It was hard to be the wife of the CEO of Olympus,
always defending his affairs, forgiving his lust.
Her movie star hands smoothed Mama's taught shoulders.

Trust me, you'll get used to it honey,
just like gamblin' away money
Zeus loses children that we've nursed.
And although you make amends,
You will hate that he condemns
her, but slowly you'll forget your thirst.
So go get yourself a lover,
you can always have another
child who'll be better than the first.

Mama shrugged Auntie’s hands away,
pink teacup shattering on the floor.
“No. I will not.
I will never love again.”

Desperate, Uncle called Hades on his cell phone.
“I’m sorry man. She’s starting to be a real bitch.
You gotta let Persi go.”
Before any protest could be made,
swift Hermes rapped at the skeletal gate,
at the ready to whisk me away like an unfaithful breeze.
I came rushing out from between the poplars and willows,
eager to come home to Mama.
But I couldn’t step through the gate.
And the gardener explained that even if Hades wanted to get rid of me,
I couldn’t go,
for I had eaten six pomegranate seeds.
Once you eat the food of the Dead,
you can never leave the Underworld.

Hermes begged for my freedom.
Hades finally conceded that I could return,
but only after I stayed one month for each seed eaten.
“So sorry Brother.
So I guess that means…
Let’s add that up, shall we?”
He turned to me, his eyes burning with black fire.
“My Persi,
as bitter as persimmon,
you are mine for six delicious months.”
A wide, strangely easy smile
eased across his face like butter on a hot griddle.
At least I knew then that he wanted me,
not just to be the bad guy,
but because he liked the way my hips moved,
the way my hair hung down my back.

Comments

[Gives A Hoot]

[this is good] This is so incredible, might I have permission to post this on my blog? With full kudos of course!! I dressed up as Persephone for years at halloween, she's my favourite character and I had a wicked costume that nobody got. This poem is just amazing. 

[Sara]

Thank you so much!

Please go ahead and re-post this if you like.  I'm more than flattered.  :)

[Always Ann]

[c’est top] i wish they had a "this is amazing" check! sara i love your work. you inspire me. 

[Jake Low]

[this is good] I congratulate, your idea is brilliant