Kurt Cole Eidsvig’s poem Seasonal is an ode to the goddess Persephone whose twin connections to both spring and death provide the framework for a personal connection to distance, love, and the COVID-19 pandemic. Many of us are closed off and isolated today at the same time as the world around us is in bloom; our desire for reaching out and touching from the limits of confinement have, according to the Key West-based poet, ‘turned us into armies of the goddess.’
We forget when Persephone
in winter she’s the orgasmic
dictator of fist clutches
regaining exhales on our
sheets. She says, you don’t
understand. He isn’t anything
She leaves and returns and learns
only one and one can add to one of us.
We see the world as plays and movies
because our favorite actress beckons eyes
in ivory nightslips; her candy skin as thin
and sweet as lilies bending over
and reflecting in the tv screen, thick
and thicker with soaked up solutions.
We can’t eat or sleep
or shake the stain of headaches
until our single needs are solved here.
Her lashes cast in nets and get
the corners turned of mouths. Of course
you always knew this was forever.
Our twin delicious predicaments resound
in songs or sounds or promises you
couldn’t help but trust. They’re flames;
the pomegranate seeds. They’re flames.
Lenora Steele’s short prose and poetry appear in the following periodicals: Event, Cranog Magazine, The Fiddlehead, Room, The Antigonish Review, Eastern Iowa Review, Wow, The New Quarterly, The Antigonish Review, Sunspot, Grain, and The Fourth River. Her work has been supported by The Canada Council for the Arts and The Nova Scotia Arts Council. She and her husband live where twice a day the tidal bore funnels a hundred billion tonnes of brine into the Bay of Fundy to the Minas Basin, up the Cobequid Bay and into the Salmon River, to her home, where the dykes hold back the sea in Truro, Nova Scotia, Canada.