fruit bearer

i pass by this house with two ripe pomegranate trees every day since august.

it’s november now

and i’ve been watching them fall

one by one

rotting away.

why hasn’t anyone picked them?

and i can’t stare at the tree everyday and wonder who will pick them

go through the trouble

getting to know the inside

teeth by teeth, a hundred bleeding hearts.

i’m so afraid of everything.

i’m afraid the pomegranates i love

the ones my mother and her mother

my father and his father loved

will perish without ever been given

a chance to be tasted.

they didn’t grow for your decoration

i feel starved of humanity some days when i look at that fucking tree.

are you human? are you a decent person?

can you live in a world where fruit beared from your ancestors

is wasting away in a desolate heat?

i can’t.

life exists everyday, and the trees depend on you to survive.

this fruit is a universe.

that you are letting rot

and burn

and rot

and burn

so please, pick the damn fruit.