(no subject)
THE SEEKER
your pomegranate heart
crammed with secrets rich to bursting
and in each, a small, hard seed of truth
so bitter your evolution screams poison!
even as you probe with a lascivious tongue
the crevices, the cloven tooth, the dark
hungry palate sundered before birth,
but later the membranes closed themselves
as if in shame. Like doors, weighty oak and pine,
bedroom doors, closet doors; your memory
evokes the scent of the forbidden,
slight sourness a tang that plucks the air
gone wild-beast-still with anticipation.
summer of your sixteenth, and even the bees
sickened of the sweet, choking, drowning
falling from the sky in motes golden
as the honey of your skin, tainted light
pulsing steadily towards completion--
'til engorged past endurance--
the moment burst like seeds.
you are drenched in scarlet, fingers sticky.
reaching into the loam, rich black loam,
the womb of secrets, to push down a bone,
splintered, end penetrating as to cut through wishes
and moss alike, sprouting a fruit for you to clutch:
your pomegranate heart.