Treasure Island

Linda Pastan

(1932 - / New York / United States)

Pears


Some say
it was a pear
Eve ate.
Why else the shape
of the womb,
or of the cello
Whose single song is grief
for the parent tree?
Why else the fruit itself
tawny and sweet
which your lover
over breakfast
lets go your pear-
shaped breast
to reach for?

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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  • warner treuter (8/19/2010 2:38:00 AM)

    Very creative use of leading into images. Prime fruit. Strike that. Too corny; thus, some might this comment out of context. Whatever, I like this poem, the way it travels. (Report) Reply

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Poem of the Day

poet William Wordsworth

I

I AM not One who much or oft delight
To season my fireside with personal talk.--
Of friends, who live within an easy walk,
Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight:
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