I cut open a pomegranate for lunch,
\nTwo cuts at the top, four at the sides,
\nArranged them as bouquets of rose \u2013 a bunch
\nOf red rubies \u2013 the raw insides
\nOf Christ of Nazareth raised to the sky.
\nMy penance was to love you as a child hides
\nHoping to be found, not as Moses on Sinai \u2013
\nI cannot love you where your law abides.
\nI am but a dog prowling the street
\nWaiting for days to play at your feet.<\/p>\n
I cut open a pomegranate today,
\nI knew you’d come, I knew you’d meet \u2013
\nI knew you’d love and sweetly say,
\n“My moonbroch, my soul \u2013 eat, eat, eat.”
\nI’d let you wash me for a change \u2013
\nA baptism starts at the tip of the tongue.
\nYou’d feed them and I would still want more :
\nHunger is piety when god bore you young.
\nWhat is it in me, such rotten stuff?
\nWhy couldn’t you make me good enough?<\/p>\n
I cut open a pomegranate tonight,
\nA night of sin, and blood, and fraud :
\nIf I am in heaven then God is a lie.
\nIf I am in hell there is no God.
\nPomegranates must be the food of love,
\nI will weave a choker of its seeds
\nAnd place them on your pulsing neck \u2013
\nMy apology \u2013 a chain of rosy beads.
\nMy pomegranates on your chest till it dries :
\nA wine made sun on your flesh\u2013tint skies.<\/p>\n
I heaped the seeds in a bowl, I rolled the red over my tongue, A bit of pomegranate stuck in my mouth I do it so it feels holy. Pomegranates drip down my wrist \u2014 \u039f \u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5\u03bd \u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bf \u03c5\u03b1\u03ba\u03b9\u03bd\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 \u20141<\/sup><\/em> Calvary looks a lot like my palms, Your Christ is a pawn with thorns for a wreath. <\/p>\n 1<\/sup> (I am) Judas, not Hyacinthus. (Greek)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Somoshree Palit I cut open a pomegranate for lunch, Two cuts at the top, four at the sides, Arranged them as bouquets of rose \u2013 a bunch Of red rubies \u2013 the raw insides Of Christ of Nazareth raised to the sky. My penance was to love you as a child hides Hoping to be… <\/p>\n
\nPomegranates must be the food of gods.
\nI couldn’t have sinned for a twisted soul
\nWhen they are saints for all their frauds.
\nWhat if I hadn’t partaken of your wine,
\nYou would be knowing. You knew.
\nWith what mouth shall I taste your bread
\nNow that I have tasted you?
\nO mother of mine, have I been weak?
\nBetrayal was the only way to kiss his cheek.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nI am now a believer to atone for death.
\nI have built a chapel inside my lung,
\nThe other lung shall cease my breath.
\nIn muted dreams the chapel whispers
\nThe Stories when the plagues linger.
\nReligion shifts and turns and whimpers
\nFor the patron saint of hunger.
\nI would make a crown for your hair unshorn :
\nA pomegranate seed on every thorn :
\nWill he feed me still and not resist
\nIf I had bitten Almighty on his wrist?<\/em><\/p>\n
\nLike your finger lodged in my throat,
\nI am in hell, and god is dead,
\nHere’s a glass to his faintest note.
\nDo you see me now, look me in the eye,
\nAnswer me with all your powers :
\nIf your son’s body is as holy as you
\nWhat is wrong with the flesh that is ours?
\nWhat is wrong with this flesh of mine,
\nSo diseased it is almost divine?<\/p>\n
\nI do it so it feels like blood.
\nI do it so if he feels sad one day,
\nHe could justify another flood.
\nIn me is a cathedral of lies,
\nAnd a haunted altar within,
\nHow should I love, how else blaspheme \u2013
\nIs my teeth on his thighs a sin?
\nIn this my ruin, fetch me flowers
\nAnd provencal wine from the south,
\nA cathedral that is his body,
\nAn altar that is his mouth.<\/p>\n
\nWhat a way to eat, what a way to go \u2014
\nHow should I betray if I’m not beloved,
\nHow should I betray if I am a foe?
\nThirty flowers bloom in my field,
\nThey wave their heads like gods on a whim,
\nThirty trees till I reach Calvary
\nWhere he chose the cross and I chose him.<\/p>\n
\nA mortal shan’t love how the Lamb may.
\nYou’d die for me in your christian love,
\nI would kill (for) you in my heathen way.
\nWhat is this love that I cannot stand \u2014
\nWhat to make of a brother that should not live?<\/em>
\nPreach me, I cannot understand,
\nWhat I’d make of a father that should not live?<\/em>
\nAnd if I asked you would’ve smiled,
\nWould you save a misbehaving child?<\/em><\/p>\n
\nIngrown hair, open wounds and skin.
\nCalvary smells a lot like his hair \u2013
\nSoil for strangers to be buried in.
\nWhat must I eat? I have eaten all.
\nThe heaven will be my sinner.
\nI am starving, love, what must I eat?
\nThe heaven will be my dinner.
\nWhat sin was mine that you had made
\nA Christ to fear, forsake, atone,
\nA Christ who was a currency to be shared \u2014
\nNot a Christ for Judas, and Judas alone?<\/p>\n
\nMy Christ is a woman with gravestones for teeth.<\/em><\/p>\n
\n