I seem to always be writing and rewriting the same poem, just with different stories and slightly different forms. Sorry about it. This is the shortest one I’ve probably ever written, because it’s an acrostic. The first letter of each word spells out the title. Katabasis is a Greek word which was often used to describe a descent into the underworld, typically as part of a hero’s quest, but, as we know, women can’t be heroes. So Persephone’s was a punishment, except I don’t think it was. I’ve never thought it was. I choose to reinterpret her story the way I do to all my favorite goddesses and fairy tale princesses and etc.
Killing would be better, she thinks,
a clean break, a final severing.
To lie still and quiet,
away from those who make scrutinizing her into a job, insuring she plays her role.
Beckoning, Hades’ hand is the clearest thing she’s ever seen,
agonizingly real in a world where everything is spring green unreality.
Spreading on her palm seeds as red as the blood she’s often thought of shedding,
igniting the blood she’s not yet shed, an offering and a promise and a binding.
She lifts them to her lips, and she twines their hands, and she reaches out with the other and takes her own fate.