Monday, July 21, 2008


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 &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 again
Its ephemeral scent lost in my garden of yesteryears
I search for yesterdays scent lost in today’s patchouli mist