MY MOTHER AS PERSEPHONE

I painted my lips fuller, flushed

an aureole to its deepest shade,

willing him to look at me again

with the eyes of a stranger.

I lay myself across the stillness

of his frame. Even in the dark,

I could not deceive. How can we

sustain desire when the body counters

with reminders of loss?

A scar below one knee,

stretch marks, sagging flesh—

my girl, I was seduced by death,

the palimpsest

beneath skin, surfacing.