New Poem: The Kiwi

The Kiwi

Once ripe, fresh, sought after
to join his friends in the social splender
of a summer mixer
the aging fruit with stray and bristling whiskers
is passed over,
touched, but not enjoyed
squeezed, fondled perhaps in evaluation
yet never chosen
unbalanced discoloration threaten to permeate
leaving shades of chaotic patterns
to manipulate his pallor.

Bruised, the soft suppleness of his skin
has seen better days
this seductive tart,
his enticing aroma
long tingling in nasal memories
gives way now
to soured pungency,
his pulp, the succulent essence of his existence
and heart of fruit
once savored on the tongue,
firm and confident
now festers in fleshy mush,
acidic and bitter.

So far past his prime,
the thought of biting into
what had been palmed decadence,
sweet ecstasies bestowed upon the mouth
and dripping juices from a lover's lips
now reviles even the blandest of
revelers,
and so he withers,
a beautiful seed
rich in promise and bounty
left too long on the fruit stand
only to decay with the compost.

Content Copyright 2011. Ami Lovelace. All Rights Reserved.