panacea

 

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