Pomegranate

Red seeds piled in plastic bowl—
I wonder how this fruit could so tempt
a girl. When I first read how Persephone fell
for it, I had never seen or tasted one.
I imagined something bigger,
substantial, sweet.

There’s a binful at the store, tumbled,
lumpish; I take one home, open it,
separate flesh from seed, meditate on myth
and moral. I see that I too could chain myself
for the sake of something fleeting,
gleaming, small.

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10 thoughts on “Pomegranate

  1. “I see that I too could chan myself…” that last thought left me with chills. Beautiful yet haunting and lonely in a universal sense. Love the meandering approach you took here, which is less usual for you. It really worked and brought me along from the shops into your home and then into your thoughts.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Thank you for these words. I fought with this one. Sometimes it’s no good when you think you know what you want to get across. It started as an in-my-head write, too, which always leads to disappointment once it gets to the page. 😉

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  2. This interests me because I felt the same way about pomegranates – I thought they might be something other than they are. But you know, when I finally had one to eat, I felt the opposite way – a fruit this much trouble should be ashamed of itself, I thought! and flung it in the trash! Impatience and rejection was what it did to me. Very interesting to read this and see where you ended up, because I did not expect it.

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    1. No doubt all the work had been done for Persephone. I think I have finally gotten the knack of getting into pomegranates–though sometimes they sit in the fruit bowl a few days before I work up the energy to tackle them. 🙂

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