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My Fruit Bowl

Posted on February 7, 2023March 7, 2023 by Lucy

Enclosed in oak
supple curves
of pomegranate, peaches
steeped in slowly
fermenting juice
seeps into cracks
of word-soaked wood

Rotted organic flesh
tendrils spread
like inky veins
on aged paper
pages stained
with bitter fading
citrus flavours

If I sipped
their liquor supped
the clotted ichor
that fills the full stop
at the end of sentences
I’ve long since forgotten
till tissues drained
and left a concave wasteland
of sterile lettered shells

Would my mind convulse,
and reject the taste?
                                   — Too late
have I revisited
the forgotten fruits
of my labours
the next ones I pick
will be ones I savour.

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Writer’s Bio

Hi I'm Lucy and this is Luce Lipped; a tiny corner of the web I've carved out for myself to share my creativity and where you can find all the rhymes, ditties, general musings that pass through these loose lips. P.s. If you chuckle at that last bit don't worry I did too.

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