Cherry Pit

Cherry Pit

 

If you swallow a cherry pit,

My grandfather told me,

It will stay in your stomach,

Never leave, until you die.

So maybe that is the reason

That now I often find myself,

Knife in hand, and half a cherry,

Prodding and slicing in vain

To remove that dreaded pit

Which has caused such pain.

The hot, dark, sticky redness

Running down my fingers, wrists

Pooling in the palm of my hand,

Dripping on the floor, staining,

Oh god what a mess I’ve made!

Yet I still hopelessly slice away,

Bits of ruby flesh, more redness,

Till there is nothing left to cut,

I’m left with nothing but pit.

Reviews

[wolfshrew]

this poem is so so so well written, i have nothing to criticize.
the imagery is flawless, as is the way everything was worded.
it works without seeming dramatic, just honest and injected
with the ideas of a talented writer. can't wait to read more
of what you've written.

[miSS LEaf]

no matter how many cherries you cut, that pit hasn't gone away, has it...?
this poem displays a background of cutting behaviour, though i'm not certain if i could really understand it?
a painful poem and a bit graphic, as it's meant to be ~L