I. Persephone braids wild flowers into hair that falls down her back. The smiles she throws over her shoulder are like the edge of a sword - sharp and deadly, like beautiful things often are.
II. Cacia stands on street corners, her head held high. She sells her pleasure in bathroom stalls and back alleys. She is a whore as well as a dealer, and she leaves her lovers as addicts.
III. Pasiphae dances nude in the moonlight. She chants her magic to the night. Blood drips down her chin and onto her breast as she laughs, bitterly. She knows only the stars will hear her now.
IV. Calypso searches for absolution in the bodies of the damned. She swallows moans as she roars with desire. She chains her heart to the sea and refuses to fall in love. It's for fools anyway.
V. Calliope writes her poetry on napkins in tiny cafés. Her epics are covered in coffee rings, and her eyes are bright as she chews on the end of her pen. Ink stains her bottom lip. She tells history as it happens, says it smells like a mocha latte.
--Phi Dean Vulpe
http://lostcap.tumblr.com/