Persephone (Your Octopus Heart)

 

This pomegranate I cut into has seven chambers

and I question how many months you  

must remain in the underworld, each year

 

four, six, seven, and then I google octopus

remembering something about how they have

three hearts, and how the systemic heart

 

tires easily, as you must tire when you

drag yourself up from down under

year after year after year

[RK, 11/29/2020]

 

Collateral

 

your cell phone aimed at my stained palm

tart unripe blackberries mixed with

the sugared fruit you stuff in a pie

 

overcast bears misread our footprints

run critical eyes over recently cleaned

pink Depression glass plates, collected

 

collectible, used as collateral against

pennywhistles, tin drums, soprano

saxophones bleating an arpeggio into

 

the cedar three ring wax wing, hovering

above the Ganges, Nile, Mississippi

Amazon, Indus, Danube, and Yangtze

 

rivers, muddy shores lined with almost

human-like footprints, the picnic hamper

dishware is a dead giveaway

[RK, 11/29/2020]