Persimmon

 I’m not sure how it is

spelled, exactly.

persimmion.  perrsimon?

persimmon, maybe

I’ve never seen one but

 

when it is dark inside and

outside and my

eyelids gently ache           

with sleep’s pressure 

 

I picture a persimmon. 

 

it is small

and a deep violet;

It’s a sphere meant for palming, with

the stem attached and dried.

 

Touching it with the

back of my hand

it is soft like a peach

but the skin is

slightly slack. 

 

Wherever you are

you are imagining persimmons

too, you know

just from dreams

how  the fragrance

wets the air -

how the scent coats

your lips, turns your tongue,

how the tartness brings a

hot flush down your cheeks.

 

Wherever you are

I imagine these things:

my cupped hand,

the persimmon,

 

you reaching

with the back of your hand

to touch the soft skin

of my neck 

Reviews

[Emily B]

oh, just oh, you elicited such emotion. I never expected that with a subject of persimmons.

[Tim McGovern]

Nice work, it manages to be gentle, almost every day conversational, and erotic all at once.
The sparse style and the pacing work very well in moving the reader along, and the word " palming" sets the tone nicely.

excellent poem

Namaste'
Tim