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and all its melanoma-like bumps
is green and yellow.
It is striped green and yellow.
Eventually the gourd will dry,
assume a hollow shape, shake
and rattle like a snare drum. Or not.
I may decide to step on the gourd,
just to try out the integrity
of its shell. The gourd
may not be a gourd
but the egg of some long-necked
dinosaur ready for incubation.
In that case, I can't wait to sit
on it and let it ripen under me.
The gourd may be melancholy,
it may withdraw from the world,
shrivel. The gourd may be white-hot
and too intense to really talk about,
So I just call it a gourd.
I hold it, feel its weight
without ever lifting a finger.
the subtext of my gourd
is quite provocative and sensual,
don't you think?
If I asked you to hold
my gourd, would you take offense?
Would you slap me?
or would you know
and have known
all along my gourd is just ripe? |
