Striking how in myth, it’s always accidents
sending women to hell,
keeping them there:
Persephone waiting to go home with her momma til
whoops no, forgot to read the fine print
’bout don’t eat no Underworld food and suddenly
her juice-stained mouth means no escape from Hades for you
Eurydice partying at her wedding, steps on a snake —
ne’rmind the groom with his honey-on-fire voice that lulls every beast,
even gonna put Hades’ three-headed guard dog down for a nap
but can’t stop one punkass garden viper.
Too busy showing off for his future father-in-law maybe
(god of music and prophecy give it up for Apollo!)
to think of snakes.
Don’t get me started on that other colossal fuckup as he’s leading her out,
turn around too soon and whoops there goes the wife
back down unto death.
When does an accident beggar the accidental.
Am I really ‘spose to believe that Little Miss My-Other-Name-Is-Snake-Goddess
couldn’t notice one small fanged tendril coiling up her ankle
as she and her nymphs pounded through their vegetable dance?
The true Eleusinian mystery:
what do Eurydice and Persephone whisper to each other
sitting in hell’s stony corners
[Featured image: Nude descending a staircase, Marcel Duchamp.]