POEM: pomegrante / fruit of brides
pomegranate
fruit of brides
melon
fruit of marriages
concentric fruit
hard-soft fruit
fruit of seeding & dying in union
I knew a man whom death was mushing
who liked nothing better than a melon
choosing or eating
he stroked the rumps
sounded them with his finger
melons & melons
were carried in the sun
before his bones turned slush
carried each like a babe
wrapped in papers to keep cool
& ate we ate
salt nubbles
juice on wood
swimming with flies in the stain
casting cool rind to patient dogs
careful
don't drop the baby
the old dog
waddles off
tusks of rind
from his jaw
pomegranate
fruit of brides
PAMELA MILLWARD
from The Route of the Phoebe Snow
(Coyote 1966)
PAMELA MILLWARD WAS FIRST SEEN IN COYOTE'S JOURNAL (SPEAKING FOR MYSELF), AND LATER IN HER NOVEL MOTHER (FOUR SEASONS FOUNDATION).
