Thus spoke Sorrow-
In MY yardI picked the fruit of misery-succulent, musky cucumbers.
I peeled away their innocence
Salted away their sweetness
The skin writhed on the table-delicate yielding stuff.
I locked them in a jar
Drowned them in vinegar
Shut them up in darkness naked, exposed, swollen with acid
I turned away forgetting them two... three... six months
Returning,
I opened the jar
There, I could not see but gnarled, gray, picklish fingers floating in a pool of acid
Only then I knew my job was done
Poetry by MK
Read 544 times
Written on 2006-08-12 at 21:40
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