Still Life

How shall i paint you
In among apples & apricots
Perhaps you are almonds
Smooth & pale &
Tasting of poison
But not enough to hurt
Or black currants draped
Just so over copper
Too dark to be
So sweet on the tongue
But the impossible
Doesn't really faze you
I think I will paint you
As pomegranates
Curves & angles &
Untastable flesh
Cool beneath my fingers
Tart sweet bitter
Jewels beneath
Tiny wise garnets
Raw ruby choices
So many pieces in so
Small a space
I dreamt a sweet
And fitful dream
Of pomegranate
That stained my mouth
That tasted of many things
Gods sugar blood &
Deep places
I woke from that dream
With painted lips.

- Nora (copyright 2003)