March 16th, 2017

poetry, exceptindreams

Morning | Leila Chatti

Leila Chatti

I take the last grapefruit from the bowl and hold it
to know its weight. The doctor told me
the tumor has grown, is now this size. In my hands,
it feels conquerable, rind giving in to the press
of my thumb, pliable and sweet. A miniature
dimpled sun. I cleave it open and begin
plucking out its seeds. Beside me, a waiting
cup, an empty bowl. I watch as they fill slowly,
cradle morning’s flush of light.