Madeleine Barhaug
She slowly rolls the bulging wine red fruit on the table
It softly crackles under her firm hands
She picks it up like a kitten and
Purring, it breaks open for her
Over a bowl of clear, cold water
Her delicate fingers make quick work
Cleanly separating the ruby jewels from the soft white flesh
She asks if I want to try –
It doesn’t fall open for me
Instead cracking and a firework of red bursts everywhere over the kitchen
Staining my hands in blood
She laughs like music
Gentle rain in spring
And gently takes the mangled corpse from me
Little crystals fall into her hands and
She feeds them to me
“You’ll learn someday”
The garnets pop between my teeth
And a reminder of her laugh coats my tongue
( I hope I never learn how to clean pomegranates )