Saturday, April 19, 2008

Tonight's poetic diversion.

Cherry Tomatoes
by Sandra Beasley

Little bastards of vine.
Little demons by the pint.
Red eggs that never hatch,
just collapse and rot. When

my mom told me to gather
their grubby bodies
into my skirt, I'd cry. You
and your father, she'd chide—

the way, each time I kicked
and wailed against sailing,
my dad shook his head, said
You and your mother.

Now, a city girl, I ease one
loose from its siblings,
from its clear plastic coffin,
place it on my tongue.

Just to try. The smooth
surface resists, resists,
and erupts in my mouth:
seeds, juice, acid, blood

of a perfect household.
The way, when I finally
went sailing, my stomach
was rocked from inside

out. Little boat, big sea.
Handful of skinned sunsets.


Anonymous said...

Cherry tomatoes are my favorite. BIG TIME! The yellow ones are especially sweet. ...... Let's see some of your poetry. I bet you have a couple.

Dainon. said...

Suddenly "Anonymous" is my most popular commenter. I've posted my poetic ramblings before, but not for a while ... perhaps it's time to dig into the files.

plainoldsarah said...

now that was a good one - in every way! can't wait! you know, to grow some of my own. too bad i haven't planted any. maybe the beets will bring me some poetic joy. have any poems about beets?

SJ said...

beat to the punch! Though I was just going to say tomoatoes