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.

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