Sunday, 27 July 2008

Cherries

My sister cut cherries
Knife-punctured
Circumnavigated
Spread each clot

Not so much bitten as crushed
In our mouths each contusion
Bled sweet

The operating table
(Cherrybloodstained) remains
Dead wood imbued
With dying juices

And I fail, but try, to reconcile
The smooth blotted board 
With the blade's
Scrape
Against rough stones

Following which
All the rest
Is bland

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