Fuck me, he says.
Flesh knows best about light.
Your skin is in bliss,
thick fluids bathe its silks
out of sheer love of me.
Let the fruit be fruit,
let the almond split.
Flesh has no mission before or after,
than to spill its cup of clay.
Let it spill, let the lees
tint your lips like kisses.
Fuck me, he says.
your mouth is a nest of seeds
this crack in your heart
my chosen abyss,
I want you to be
responsive and without history.
Let the beast in my chest breathe
Spare me your Goddamn memories,
I want the core of your cunt only.
Fuck me, tell me about the Center
tell me about the Fruit.
What’s it like there, around my cock
tell me about the spasms
and the pain ruby.
Why do you live there, lover ?
Why do you bloom at all ?


This poem was written after I received this beautiful extravagant pomegranate.