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. |
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.