PERSEPHONE

3 9 R P E R S E P H O N E G W Y N E T H L E W I S ‘‘Look at me, Ma!’’ Walking the beam, She wobbles then Pirouettes En pointe On a proton. Daughters never see danger, Which is their charm, Till they come to harm: Flowers scattered in the bubble chamber. Then, implacable mother, I Search under winter’s gravity waves Find where she hides. Pomegranate seeds Pulse in her gullet, A fact, irreducible. Her eyes: Dilated to mirrors of black In which I loom large. In light again On visits home She dances at double strength. The pinprick pupils Have shut me out. ...