“Think of the trouble we go through
to see what will remain
of all our expectations.”
~ D. Bonta
Choose one,
said the farmer
and we picked
from among shapes
lying in the dust
of a watermelon field:
it was almost dark
and the penknife
nicked your finger
in severing fruit
from base of stem
and I thought, always
something is asked—
carve a door, find
the key, surrender
a tithe before you
sit to eat sweet
ruined flesh.
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