Peace be with you

I extract the seeds one

by one, squeeze the ruby pearls between

my fingertips and am pleased

to see my hands and shirt stain, counter

splash red.

 

I am pleased with this empty shell

but not my life. With bumpy wax melted and hardened

on candlesticks. With laundry hung.

With the ticking start

of the stove and soft whine

of the kettle.

 

I do not know how to wait, but I have learned how to notice.

 

The white marrow

of the pomegranate husk goes on

and on, infinite caverns enclosing infinite

fruit.

Pomegranates

Katie Shara