A very rough attempt -- but I think it might become something.


The heart is the size of a pear
and about the same shape. Suddenly

it's 341 A.D. and St. Augustine, as yet
unsainted, is a boy

stealing pears. It is 1962
and I am eight, climbing the pear tree

in our backyard and ripping my dress.
It is 2010 and a boy in Kazakstan

runs down a lane of wild pears.
His heart is beating hard.

The pears glow like gold,
like hearts. "It was foul,"

St. Augustine would later write.
"And I loved it. I loved my own undoing."

Comments

  1. I love this. What do you dislike about it?

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  2. Um...I think it's the word "suddenly" and soemthing screwy about the "would later write" in the penultimate line. I'll mess around with it some more, though, and give it a title. Then maybe...

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  3. I love this too and I am Augustinian Janet.

    ReplyDelete

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