In a joke, you called me Persephone

but got mad when I agreed. 
No, I did not want to move in, 
but I was merely 21-years old;
a wee lass some might say, 
although you would disagree:
You’re forgetting about agency
as if young women in this world
walk without a path. 
I forgot, I just pretend 
to seek new territory, 
donning my colonialist guise
for some approval. 
As if I’d ever believe I owned something,
I don’t even own this body
I rent it out and sometimes you 
are willing participant. 
Oh Hades, I do believe you have no choice 
to cultivate your underworld
to live with the things 
I pretend don’t exist
such is my way, &
I’d be flattered to sit here in decoration, 
counterparting antique furniture, 
long-growing vines,
encompassing bookshelves
& posterity; if only so much 
did not ride on the things 
that exist beyond us.

[Selena Cotte is a poet and technology scholar living in Chicago and online. Her work has been published in journals such as Hobart, Sad Girl Review, Witch Craft Magazine, and others. She’s @selenacotte wherever you think that may work.]

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