POMEGRANATES

Pomegranates.
In summer
I always think of blood red pomegranates;
Summer's candy,
Seedy lemonade.

Is there anything worth that much trouble
Mother always used to say
Men are all the same
Never trust one too much
Until the gold is on your finger
Pomegranates stain
And are a mess
And if you get that sticky in your hair
And on those bare legs
Don't come running to me
For a change of clothes
Only one per
You know the rules.

And the red juice runs down
Leaving little rivers on
Dusty half-naked bodies.
And soon the pomegranates
Are gone
And summer turns orange and brown
Like too-mellow pomegranates,
Bitter now
And shriveling -
The seeds falling to the sleepy earth,
Awaiting the
Inevitable summer.