on my palm, you are sun
goddess made by the tropical
gods in their dreams
i cut you
across your seed
lengthwise
as your yellowing juice
drips & tinges
my fingertips of heavenly
sweetness
some would even
cut your flesh into little squares
to be spooned into
desserts light & creamy as clouds
but by the streets & shores
of hardy farmers, fishermen & tradesmen
we holler for you
salivating over
your hard green
skin of unripeness
a tartness to rouse our tongues
to firehouse
of bitter-sour flavor
the earth has pickled in your seed
either freshly picked
or mixed with diced tomatoes,
onions, chiles and
shrimp paste sauce,
a side dish
for grilled fish and fried meats
under cool shades
of coconut trees,
your greenness gives us
roots
salt of our skin
browning under the burning sun
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - How to cut a pomegrante, hosted by Kim M. Russell. Join us for a fruity prompt when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.
