Month: January 2019

Fine

I drop a pencil, hear it crack. Pick it up. Listen to the core. Graphite snapped. Invisible. Inside. I press on it, write a sentence. Sketch a drawing, shade the grey. Use it. Broken. I know it’s done. Inside it’s shattered. A rattle, a clatter. Pieces fallen. Outside it’s fine.

Satsuma

Week old, in the bowl,
skin still smooth, colour still bright.
Left behind. Fading.
Don’t peel her, don’t touch her skin.
Flesh inside wrinkled. Coarse
and dry, now. Deflated, don’t bite. Bitter
she bleeds. Poison waits,
seeping.