“When you’ve fallen from the sky, been abandoned by your friend, suffered police brutality, metamorphosed into a goat, lost your work as well as your wife, learned the power of hatred and regained human shape, what is there left to do but, as you would no doubt phrase it, demand your rights?”
― Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses
FRUIT IN SEASON 2: WHAT RHYMES WITH . . .
peaches? Beaches. A peach of a beach.
Gracetown in summer. A soft fur of heat
over bodies. The water, icy. Exploding
gently on legs as fruit in the mouth.
Sand the texture of peach stone: gritty,
rough. China, a memory refracted
through tropics: small fat god, white beard,
riding a deer. A Chinese Santa Claus.
In his hand, the fruit of which we speak:
Australia- Poetry International Web
foto – summer fruit in ulmarra dec 09