Persephone Weaves

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on to the home 
with the train wreck 
see the smoke through the windows 
where Persephone weaves 

shredding the foil 
from your cigarette paper 
be aware there is someone 
with a gun in his hand 

she looks in the mirror and 
who cares what she sees 
she won’t know what the picture shows 
or what to believe 

out through the door 
love is so withered back now 
and the wine that they gave you 
burns your head in this light 

I’m going down 
lost through all of these pages 
where did you wander off to 
in the middle of life? 

I look in the mirror 
I don’t care what I see 
no one knows where people go 
just before they leave 
and fall through the papers 
into your time 
maybe you can break the pattern 
Persephone weaves

 

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