Pomegranate on the Border

Glorious garment ahead,
Crippled soul enamored,
The soft edges inviting
My fear to touch.
Lungs not ready
To breathe,
Tongue not ready
To savor.

Transcendental thing,
No casual series of threads
Soon to unravel.
Celestial comeliness
Within the hem.

Fruit –
Blue, purple, scarlet,
Priestly ornaments,
Life of the mystery
Revealed to weary eyes,
Tear-stricken eyes.
I would taste what I see,
Fear be damned!

Twelve years…

I come bearing fruit,
Wearing the robe
Of another,
Complexion colored
Of liquid ruby.
The naked, the hungry,
The empty –
Come quickly.




For prompt #103 by the good folks at Read Write Poem .