Eating Fruit

Hidden in the white plump flesh

Of mangosteen

Some part of our tender innocence sleeps

Cocooned,

Protected,

From vulgar hands

Sealed off in dense papier-mâché maroon

Skin

A faint warning - hinting of poison

Harmless

Like the soft green light of Gatsby’s dock

Whether they break through with precision or urgent force

You still lay bare

Until nothing remain

But seeds -Homeless

remnants only in sticky fingers washed

And a fleeting memory of sweet floral nectar trailing

on gluttonous mouths…

Eager

to take

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