pomegranates

I slice open a pomegranate 

picking at the jewels of red

reveling in the popping sensation

when the seeds are bitten into 

I slice open a pomegranate 

taking in the foamy white of the rind

that surrounds the seeds

I slice open a pomegranate 

and the red drips down

staining the countertops 

I can't wash it off

I take the knife, 

ready to slice open my pomegranate,

to satiate my hunger

and I discover I've run out of pomegranates to slice

all that remains

are the marks that my knife left

when they exposed the white flesh

and the bloody red inside