‘Bulwark’, ‘Persimmon Tree’ & ‘Dread Persephone’
Elizabeth Agre hides out deep in the north woods of Minnesota along side the bear, wolves and bobcats
Bulwark
I am a bulwark:
Firm and strong against the forces
Of your enemies, which are
Unyielding in their assault,
Neverending in their vitriol,
Dogged in their pursuit,
Arising from the dark depths of your mind
To pull you under—
I will not let them pillage you
Or plunder your spoils
Nor lay you under siege.
I am your foundation:
Steadfast in my loyalty
Though you have forgotten your promise
And built over me
Breaking me
Lying to me
Erstwhile you sleep soundly.
I am your stability:
Solid in my presence at your elbow,
That you take for granted, leaning on me
Until I break
Beneath the weight of your need
Beneath the weight of my shoulders
Of our friendship that only serves you,
Rending me apart so that I am
Nigh unrecognizable.
Of course, that won’t really happen.
I won’t let it.
So go ahead and push,
Today, I will get back up, and tomorrow, too.
Over, and over again, I will take the hit,
Unwavering, solid, grounded, rooted
To the only thing I can really trust.
Myself.
Persimmon Tree
A Golden Shovel Inspired by Gwendolyn Brooks’ “The Rite of Cousin Vit”
My feet are frozen to the ground. No one helps me. Even
The swallows abandon me in favor of taller, more fruitful trees now
Laden with plump persimmons and rotting corpses. She
Is beautiful, hanging from its bough with her neck at an angle, her toes just tickling the grass and—does
She know, how I stand here, frozen in my tracks, staring at the
Cold blue lips, once red and full, and big round hips, those dulcet snake-hips
She used to tease me with. Oh, how she teased. You’d think I’d feel rage, instead I stand here with
Indecision rooting me in place, and melancholy weighing me down, a
Heavier weight than a man’s love—Theirs never compare to your kiss; all I have is the wind’s cold hiss.
Dread Persephone
I am the Dread Persephone,
Queen of the Underworld and Shepherd of Souls
Long gone and freshly sown.
I am the Dread Persephone,
Empress of the Dead and Guardian of the Damned
In the cold dark of Tartarus and the
Sweet glow of Elysium.
I am the Dread Persephone,
Bringer of Chaos and Mother to
Rebirth and Ghosts,
Mystery and Madness,
Hunting and Nightmares.
I am the Dread Persephone,
Old beyond centuries, powerful beyond measures
Both mortal and immortal.
I am the Dread Persephone,
Queen and Mother,
Wife and Daughter.
I am the Dread Persephone,
And I am tired.
I dream of pomegranates and firm hands,
Great boughs and spring laughter
And, all the while, wonder where
It is I do belong.
To whom it is I do belong.
I am the Dread, Persephone,
And above all, I dread
The lonely nights
And quiet halls.
The living wights
And green-hedged walls.
Eva Nemirovsky received a bachelors in English Literature from the University of California, Davis, before moving on to a one semester mentorship program with mentor Gayle Brandeis at PocketMFA, and then a week at Tinker Mountain Writer's Workshop. They’ve published both poetry and flash fiction in The Ocotillo Review, and a short story, “Glitter and Gleam” in Pomona Valley Review’s 17th issue. They are a speculative fiction writer, focusing primarily on fairytale fantasy and magical realism. When they aren’t writing, they are rock climbing, drawing, or spending time with their cat, Apollo, in their home in Davis.
