Persephone modern day dryad, conjoined to the urbane Forrest of city street lights and the budding fever of satellites
Orbiting above so to do you in tandem
Sit above the mortal clay and look down upon your throne as new pagan goddess in disdain
At lowly men who are looking for you in the fog of bewilderment
Only to find the scent of your spent cucumber juul pods.
Hidden by a veil of she/her pronoun deception out of the reach of those who journey to sup at your table and drink your bitter la croix libations
The woke the seer and the poet know of thy agendering
for wickedness is thy name and truly such title can not be bedraped to one sex alone.
YOU ARE READING
The Penultimate Pleasures
PoetryA collection of poems meant to embody the ongoing struggle of souls seeking shelter in modernity. (Let me know what you think:)
