White-Armed Persephone Walks Into His Van
She stripped wisteria off the pronged
poles. Wednesday. The mistake garden
plot by the Stop-n-Shop on Grand
where they wait. Pumping premium into her
pickup, she decides to yes the next man
who asks. Her knees
above her kneesocks guarantee. Her
riding skirt rising as she reaches for
flowers to dress her mother’s table. When
her daughter is an open feast. When
she leans to squeegee her windshield
and the tattooed man reaches out then
under. His white van idles louder. When
the bird-whistles across the highway
open her in her car. The pistils
in her glove. She always knew she’d go
quietly. The hidden knives agree. 