Word Poem 1: Sanguine

A CATALOGUE OF HARVESTS:
I.
THE SANGUINE PEACH--
HER FACE, A CANVAS EASILY BLUSHED,
HER HEART, TOO EASILY BRUISED.
SHE RIPENS SLOWLY
THEN, TOO SOON, FALLS
SICKENING SWEET
HER SPIRIT HEAVY WITH DISAPPOINTED HOPES.

II.
REMEMBER MALUS DOMESTICA,
THE ONE WHO WANTED TO LOVE YOU AND BEAR YOUR CHILDREN,
WHO SWEPT YOU UP IN HER SIREN SONG?
BUT THEN AGAIN,WHAT WAS SHE WITHOUT A LOVER?
(WHO COULD HAVE BEEN ANY MAN, AFTER OR BEFORE YOU).

III.
AND WHAT OF YOUR LITTLE COMMUNIST,
WHO NEVER COULD BE FAITHFUL TO YOU?
NOMADIC NIGHT WANDERINGS, TOO MANY YOU SPENT
PLAGUED BY A HEART YOU NEVER COULD TOUCH--
OR WAS IT EVER THERE?

IV.
BUT THEN YOUR EYES TRIPPED OVER HER
NESTLED AMONGST THE SEDUCTIVE BOUGHS OF ORANGES.
THERE YOU TOUCHED THE SKIN ROUGH WITH OLD REGRETS;
PRESSED YOUR LIPS TO THE FLOWERS,
THE LEAVES THAT NEVER BETRAYED HER FRAGRANCE,
THE BRANCHES THAT SOUGHT YOU FIRST
BECAUSE THEY KNEW YOU.
THOUGH SHE WAS NOT A TITLED FRUIT
SHE BORE HER NOBILITY PRESSED TO THE GROUND,
HER SPIRIT SCENTING YOU AND THE EARTH,
HER PROUD FACE CATCHING THE SUNLIGHT.