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“Doesn't look so spectacular.”
What did you think it would be?
“Ten stories up, lustery new or
furrowed, rain-weathered.”
Are those the only perches
you dream for angels?
“You say condescendingly.”
Close your eyes – have you ever
tasted a seed? “Of course: by
handfuls.” No, just one: as
it butters the air, as it owns
all the breath in your mouth?
“Yes. Yes, of course.
I've had many – and one.”
Swallow now. Have you ever
seen the shell? “Whole or
mangled? Before or after
I ate the seed away?”
Exactly. Trust me:
it's empty now.
She was there
the other
day
.
Technically, the casing that contains the seed's embryonic plant is called a “seed coat.” Nuts have shells. But A) I didn't want to use “nut” as the fruit for my analogy because its name also evokes the vernacular meaning “crazy” which I did not want to imply of any characters in the poem {the girl, the guest, or the visionary} – the word “seed” brings with it more fitting implications for the poem's subject, and B) I figured you'd understand what I meant: shell, husk, coat … the outside part that gets left behind when the essence moves on to fulfill its natural purpose (to be eaten or to root and grow – still a hull remains, glorious as a ghost for what it once contained).
ReplyDelete* Thanks to Krista (Muse watching Peter Pan in the mirror), Julie (bouquet & leaning ear), David (berries on stem – before arrangement), Kara (balcony in Laos), and Aaron (sanctified ceilings) for making this collage full.