We can’t believe National Poetry Month is almost over, but we keep it going in our hearts every single day of the year! Keep celebrating with this poem by Richard Vargas, taken from his new (and Garrison Keillor-approved) collection Guernica, revisited.
she held out her hand, offered him a bite,
cupping what looked like a plump, bruised
testicle in the soft flesh of her palm.
he politely declined, remembered the
tree in his grandma’s backyard, how the fruit
would ripen and drop to the ground where the
rotting skin swelled and split in summer’s
heat as guts were left sticky and exposed.
the fat, black flies would come, hover for days,
feast and vomit like decadent Romans.
but she insisted, lifted the fig to
his mouth, teased his reluctant tongue. the taste
of its sweet red meat went down easy like
oysters. he licked his lips, asked her for more.