Pomegranate Poem
Pomegranate The stained glass beads fall into the china bowl as droplets of red rain water. A tap to the skin, more spill congealing like frogspawn in a pond of pink juice. Little eyes gander their crimson tears swell seeing their mother's fruit husk. Scooped up by cold metal the pearls between my teeth a burst of sweet blood pools in my mouth. Until they are no more.