Pomegranate
I bought a pomegranate.
The fruit sat on my counter
for three days,
hard as a clenched fist.
When I cut it open
all those red chambers.
A hundred glossy reasons
to stay quiet.
I pulled the seeds free
my fingers stained
like I had touched
the inside of an animal.
I carried you around for months
like a mouthful of arils.
The promise of something sweet.
The reality of a hard bitter seed hidden inside
when I finally bit down.
You know, you can eat the entire aril–
the juice and the seed–
or chew the pulp
and spit out the seed.
I saw which seed would grow and which would not.
I swallowed all of them.
Delicious.
6 thoughts on "Pomegranate"
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I think the last two lines of this knock it out of the park! Well done.
Thank you! And I always appreciate a baseball reference. 😉
I adore the casual, no-big-whoop-or-anything way you opened this poem, all before picking out all the seeds of the subject matter. Well done, indeed.
Thank you, Philip! Much appreciated. I will let the seed of this comment sit in my teeth for a while. 🙂
I love the journey of this!
Thank you, Anna! Always happy to have friends join me for the ride.