Invierno

Only one letter changes immunity
to impunity.  Even if you were 

the daughter of immortals, 
you could still be abducted to 

the underworld, where you'll be
forced to share your uncle's bed. 

Some call this violence or 
a trickery; others call it fate.

Meanwhile, aboveground, hillsides 
thicken with drooping Galanthus flowers.

Meanwhile, your mother cycles
between surrender and despair,
,
despair and surrender. And look
at Botticelli's Primavera, where,

in the orange grove, the zephyr is also 
bent on possessing the nymph. Flowers 

and vines are falling from her mouth.  
It's as though now, winter will never leave.