pirouetting through the farmers’ market by Sameeya Maqbool

May 17, 2021

you hand it over the table
I carry it towards my nose

stroke the creases on its cover
massage it against my own

it’s as though autumn leaves
shook hands with the moon

pledging to hide a city
under this fruit’s rind

but my knife is a country
cutting through the centre

leaving remnants of life
in cups of white houses

explosions slip on my dress
like miniature rubies

only to do all of this again
with a different fruit

I’m happy with these rumaan
I’ll take the whole basket

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