Pomegranate

September 4, 2012

Dry as dusk, tight red skin
turned to white wattle,
a memory, now so much less,
is veering off into a single parable;
the pomegranate, whose fleshy seed-pods,
if not a heart or a mouthful,
holds at least the promise
of diastolic fullness it
seems we will need at last.

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