Poetry

Ken Stone: Pomegranate

Pomegranate   Its name suggesting stability, yet here is one collapsing from within, where seeds jostle, quilted in jelly.   Here is one overripe with alternatives— a fruit like a cricket ball packed with frog spawn, but now agape with seed escaping:   pomegranate—splitting for a chaotic finale belying the pebble geometry of beginnings, and nurture from earth and sky;   Pomegranate—squandering many so one might grow. What birds forgo will stew in summer heat, drop en masse, and glut the ground.   Ken Stone

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