And what of fruit can save the sea
That means, I swear, nothing to me
Of apples, cherries, tangerines
Blended in the crowns of Queens.
Their blood is vain and somewhat blue
Like veins you know but purple hue
At least I hope no crimson lies
Within these cliché troubled lines.
And what of fruit can cleanse the path
Where crows or flies demand to pass
And suck the sour, sweetened crunch
That spread like jam on toast for lunch.
At first the echoes of our past
So seemed to mingle like the last
Of sorrow, anger, passive play
Imagination to decay.
However do I dare decree!
The symptom of the fruit is sea -
For salt still cannot wish to dine
With bittersweet Blackberry wine
In which a million will find meaning
But one woman still is reeling
In her gave and in the dirt
Because her precious fruit was hurt.
Author notes
Don't get me wrong I actually really admire her.
Comments
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Wow, this completely eclipsed any and all reasoning of comprehensin I have, yet it seems so amazing.
I am bewildered with intrigue.
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Thanks it is a response to Sylvia Plath's "Blackberrying".
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I've never read much by her before.
im not the bigest fan of too many well known and establish poets, but if I rememeber, i'll give that one a read. -
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I do admire her but I'm not actually a huge fan either.
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