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.
8 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.
You really invite the reader inside with this poem. Well done!
Thank you, John! Welcome! 😉