I bought one pomegranate this morning just to admire it.
They were two for five dollars, but I was only
Can we eat it? my daughter asked that evening.
She was limping through her chemistry homework,
watching me watching the pomegranate.
Not until I’m finished, I answered vaguely,
wondering what exactly that meant.
It sat on the counter, defining red. Even the tomatoes
knew not to argue.
When my husband came home, he palmed it absently
then rolled it down the hallway for the dog.
It’s in my office, now, catching the afternoon sun.
I’m not sure why it matters so much
but it does. I know that the seeds inside are
waiting, jewel-like, encrusted in their pulpy womb.
But for the moment I’m content just to
see it there when I turn my head. Sitting
quietly on the sill. Concentrating all that color
in one place.
Photo by Shai Barzilay
© 2012 Kim Triedman. All rights reserved.