Ice Sculpture of a Fruit Basket

you find a completely empty picnic area--

showing up dressed as a widow.

black kerchief wrapped around your head--

tied at the chin, a predominance of cheeks

with a buggy-bulge of purple horn rim glasses.

barefoot with a black dress on, obscuring

splatters of sweat: back/breasts/paunch.

holding an ice sculpture of a fruit basket on a

ninety degree day.

you spread a white sheet & set it down, as

large ants congregate on this succulently

carved chunk of ice.

you then get naked, save for the black kerchief--

as if undergoing a strip search in prison.

sitting Indian style--chanting the sutras of an

emotional cripple, while periodically licking

the melting fruit basket to sate your thirst.

until one of the large ants bites your tongue.