(This is the first part of a longer Persephone-themed piece that I'm working on. For now, this section is called "Well what were you wearing?")
Whipping playfully through and under her gently woven skirt,
A spring breeze then rushed through the ventilated underworld
Still carrying a scent of un-plucked lilies and seasons about to ripen.
Although Hades is cavernous, under-dwellers prefer to leave id and ego
In one authoritarian room, where light and dark are clear to them
They decide what is the truth and beat their chests to proclaim the victory.
As they have dulled down their senses from the beatings of their brothers, they cannot
Easily discern the subtle tones of the complex beings in the atmosphere above.
To catch her scent at all is surprising, but one grunted out: “Olive salt,” and the hunt began.
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