Monday, February 9, 2009

February 7, 2009

The following poem was a scaffolding project using Billy Collins' "Walking across the Atlantic."

Eating a Pomegranate

I wait for the grocer to turn his back
before slipping it into my pocket.

Soon I am eating a pomegranate
thinking about India
looking for scarves, Shiva.
I feel the seeds pop like rain.
Tonight I will sleep in its hollow peel.

But for now I try to imagine what
this must look like to the grocer,
these exotic fruits appearing, disappearing.

1 comment:

Kiki said...

This may seem like brown-nosing, but I am well aware that compliments don't earn grades: I had no real appreciation for poetry before reading yours.

I like your style. A lot.