THE BARMECIDES, BY JANE ZWART 

Even a kid knows the rich by the false fruits
on their tables, by the wax apples
topped with wicks and silk, strategic leaves;
by the grapes draped over the rim
of a bowl, rubber marbles holding their breath;
by the oranges, born without navels,
all peel and perfect pores; by the pears arrested
at their mellow best; by a token
pineapple, its plucked quatrefoil, its half-redacted
shoots.
                 On coming home
how could I deny the shabby bananas? A bunch
of mundane moons on a counter,
comfortingly liver-spotted, overripe, artless.

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Jane Zwart's poems have previously appeared in Poetry, Boston Review, The Poetry Review (UK), Cincinnati Review, and TriQuarterly, as well as other journals and magazines.