Fruit

Cut open a pomegranate.

 

You see the red, fleshy,

skin-tight surface?

It’s like a community,

appearance to the masses–

even to the outsider within.

 

Now, cut inside

the dark, pink center–

see the juice run out?

It is the outcome of communication,

tied over from months of ripening,

passing time ripped open

with the slice of a knife

 

And then, of course,

there are the seeds.

They made this fruit, didn’t they?

 

Like each individual member

of a group domain fighting

for the leading role, a new

plant to form

yet once the first is turned over,

honey, there is no differentiating

between those seeds– in, out.

 

There is only room for flesh and blood.

 

June 4, 2014

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