Persephone’s Seeds—Vanessa Maderer

In rolls a begotten fog 
Smelling boggish, of
Crushed sage and old pomegranate 
Seeds. The scent roots me here, like
Sleep paralysis dead awake. And,
In my periphery, there lurks
Some otherworldly shadow 
All made up of
Skeletal lace; petrified petals greyed and 
Sheathing an emaciated
Figure. Only her eyes 
Are alive, so quick and angry, and 
Trapped too. 
I tremble and think, is this his
Pomegranate queen?
Buried beneath the weeds, trapped by 
Just those few seeds? 
The injustice radiates from her  
Withered form, with just a wisp
Of former glory, old beauty. 
And then the shadow decays away, leaving 
Just a moldy fragrance that 
Reminds me of 
Rotten roses once 
And I know I will never 
Accept the promise of seeds again 
Lest I become 
Persephone’s legacy.

Vanessa Maderer was a young reader turned editor, writer, and finally enthusiastic poet who has recently debuted her first chapbook entitled, Cusp of Dusk after a decade of revision. Now, she has an insatiable appetite for new ideas and themes, and can be found most easily through Twitter at @MadererV. 

photo by Thought Catalog (via unsplash, with credit to