The pomegranate incense is gone yet the smell of the smoke lingers
Filling my nose with its scent
I used the last stick yesterday
And am sick with desire to smell that pungent fruit
Sinking into my veins
Like a good fix on life
The deep red burgundy of the berries merges with my blood
The pomegranate incense of my life remains
Like seeds once picked over by crows
Dry and humble they lie
Renewed by life’s rain
Each seed leaves behind a bright red stain
There’s no shortage of pomegranate seeds
When pomegranate season comes
I’ll devour them greedily
The taste of the red berry remains sweet and sticky on my tongue
I long for my pomegranate incense
The last stick burned yesterday
I’m sick with desire to smell that pungent fruit smoke again
Its ephemeral scent lost in my garden of yesteryears
I search for yesterday's scent lost in today’s patchouli mist
By Joy Leftow
“Poet Laureate” of Washington Heights, Violet aka Joy Leftow, has been featured on Rockland Internet Radio, Indie Feed, Jazz Poetry Café, and Everything Goes. Violet pulls no punches. To date, Joy has over 90 publications to her credit, primarily poetry. Joy’s honesty and openness will floor you - maybe embarrass you, but she promises not to bore you.
visit Joy's Poetry Blog
No comments:
Post a Comment