LOVED

03.10 | a fruit from paradise

I WAS GIVEN A FRUIT.
My sister cut a pomegranate
one night 'cause
MOTHER TOLD HER IT WAS
GOOD FOR ME.
We ate the fleshy seeds
till the last fill.
BUT THE HOUSE CAUGHT A FIRE
lit by a petty misunderstanding
the next morning.
It was a pomegranate to forget.
To eat swiftly.
To swallow the seeds of anger
and danger,
BEFORE THE FLAMES CAUGHT US
AND REDUCED US TO ASHES.
I refused a pomegranate to peel off
my armoured soul.
I have watched the pale red juice
of the fruit colour a father's cheeks
- OUT OF DESPAIR;
MOSTLY OF BEING CHEATED
OFF OF A BAZAAR OF LOVE.
And I have seen my mother harden
like the skin of a pomegranate.

I WAS NOT GIVEN A FRUIT
'cause we could not afford it.
I wanted to feed barren mouths
who couldn't work for it.
For all the fruits of hope
knifed into two;
AND for all the seeds of time
the living breath of my family
was vacuumed,
I COULD GROW A POMEGRANATE
PLANT, and watch the fruit
plop down at my feet,
one by ONE,
forsaken by a girl who doesn't
deserve any of it.