Friday, November 7, 2014

are they fresh or rotten?
ripe with love?
juicy with joy?
they polish your lips and insides:
the cherries of their kidneys, the peaches of their bladder
the pomegranates of their liver, the raisins of their heart
dressed fashionably in cellophane
perfumed with pesticides
soon they’ll be out of season
they desperately pimp themselves
to fill your fickle shelves
hurry and eat them
before they hemorrhage sickly sweet
please don’t scrap them
to be assimilated by eerie possums
removed with forceps
from a tree in labor
born to be groped and sampled
they marry some dashing vegan
not some bloodless omnivore
puree them into a shake
kindly imbibe
just don’t wipe them from your mouth
they live on your tongue and …
in your spirit.

James Mirarchi

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...