Knowing Shame

On that morning, you smudged the horizon with a hand caked in mud

And from that murky dawn came a seed weightier than any bond

You swallow it, fearing no rood lattice can bear it

And from that seed swells a bristling radicle, pulsing

As it weaves into the marrow, it pumps branches like blood

And yields the strangest of fruits, a silver pomegranate with latent layers 

Each skin a darker hue than the first until there lies a center so putrid,

That every tear, every breath, every drop of sweat reeks of that acidic bulb

So that no lover, no friend, no foe should ever see it, lest it’s unveiling

Prick the eyes of the beholder and the thickest of fig leaves sprout

To shield your face from that shattering disillusionment