April 5, 2013

 

I asked the fruit in the bowl

why it refuses to rot.

It said it’s waiting

to be painted.

 

Then it asked me about

the lines at my lips

and I told it about

our faces,

 

how they record

the way they contort

over the years.

And how

 

we go grey before we go

cold. I said sorry

I’m not much of a painter

and sorry

 

you had to spend your prime

sitting in this kitchen

till you’re brown and

no one wants you.

 

 

Reviews

[Clockwork]

There is something very poignant about the way you conclude the poem. There is a sort of suggestion about purpose and want in those lines. And I think that gets contrasted with the idea of the speaker in the poem. While she cant paint, she can have a conversation with the fruit. She can explore what can be done in the finite time we have to live. I also really liked the bit about the lines and how they record how faces move. Very nice touch there.