Do I have the right to speak for a place where I recently arrived?
It is all delay, anyway, relay bound by ritual. Like a priest sacrificing his depth
to a god.
A spider with eight long legs, cautiously climbs the wall next to my bed, unsure
of the steep terrain.
When I look again, it's gone. A few minutes later it appears,
further down.

Persephone has returned 
to her rank kingdom,
leaving her Mother barren,
but expecting. 

It ascends and falls
again and again until
I turn and turn
off the light.


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