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When Asked to Write on Pomegranates

When there is occasion, I write it.

For example, now. I keep thinking

on what it is to be a feminine thing,

how others think we can be peeled

back, and how they believe they’ll

find consummate sadness beneath

whatever it is they think they’re

peeling. Women are always such

metaphors: one look at ripe fruit,

one shapely act of nature, a gully

carving its way in life with what?

Just water. A woman is understood

as an image or a series of them.

Because a man wants emphasis

and he wants to sense love with

all of the senses, to own love until

his head spins. A woman must be

a constantly changing suggestion,

a beautiful, unboring virus – 

seizing you again, again.

Posted 10/20/14
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