Member Poem

A plump, red droplet… pulsing wide with atomic nectar, juts from its substrate on too glorious days… budding (just below) the carrot-tops of coarse, green hair tied-up in a pin… its swollen
shape lavishly armed with populous seed—now, praying in sagged circumstance (heaven coaxes its tears to the ground) … He’s tardy in holding its form tight (but it seems that way to everyone whose already made the trip) … unaware of any horseplay, or wrongdoing… he grasps its whole voluptuousness, and gives a tug with warm, clean hands… unsheathing the fruit from its olive scabbard—that which once birthed and coddled its vast coolness… the plant shivers in a fright! and gives up the sin that’s so desperately mistaken—he had yanked that branch before… once, as a woman—a lithe… lean… and luscious temptress—who endured the first disparity of every kind of berry, in or out of a sacred plot… He now brings it to his lips (that which is banned), and rips the coiling life out its tasty seams (knowing that he can never go back—not that he’d ever want to fall asleep in a pew again, and dream of all the bumps and bruises on its watery hide), on his frosty way to life’s juicy pith…