Thursday, January 31, 2013

the delicious irony of earnestness

Whole plum glistening black
flesh taut and ribald
daring that first bite,
mocking the honest knife,
bare blade aching
to share your secrets with the sky.

Teeth savage you open,
your skin whets the very edge of sharp,
you burst like summer rain
your essence trickling
over some greedy tongue,
down some stolid chin.

Yet it is the pantomime
not the definition
you desire of devour,
that power to call appetite
with your flawless core,
your radiant and irresistible command.

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