Sing, sing, because you can.
Descend in murk and pitch.
Double-talk the ferryman
And three-throated bitch.
Sing before the king and queen,
Make the grave to grieve,
Till Persephone weeps kerosene
And wipes it on her sleeve.
And she will grant you your one wish:
To fetch across a river
Black and sticky as licorice
The one you lost forever.
Don't look back. But no one heeds.
You glance down in the water.
The image of drowning in the weeds
Could be your phantom daughter.
And part of you leaves Tartarus,
But part stays there to dwell---
You who are both Orpheus
And She he left in Hell.
My Improv':
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