He found her dressing Proserpina’s hair.
Eurydice was always at her ease
and made friends easily, knew how to please.
He coughed, She looked around and saw him there

and smiled, but did not speak. The Queen of Hell
smiled too. He might have guessed that they’d make friends,
both chased, both dragged here. Shared pain often lends
The sameness fact does not. He would not tell

them this. It would not help. But Proserpine
could visit Life and shop. Eurydice
would be in Hell or come back to the day
of Life for good. He feared her friend the Queen

might resent this, or simply want to keep
her new best toy dreaming in Death’s long sleep


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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