The Fruit Poem by Brian Taylor
The Fruit
THE FRUIT is in the stone
already grown.
The cells
group to fill already forming shells
to keep out out.
This is where lion lies down with lamb:
in dried skin
dried blood
powdered edges
broken flame
particles on particles the same,
and again
in the bone clutch of the brain,
groupings, twitchings, pullings, tame.
Slippings and slidings on a wet palette.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: fruit
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4/23/2024 6:58:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
