Joy Leftow from New York, NY United States
This poem has been published several times.
POMEGRANATE STAIN By Joy Leftow
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 smoke again Its ephemeral scent lost in my garden of yesteryears I search for yesterdays scent lost in today’s patchouli mist
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