Melon short poem

Photo by bongo vongo

My body is a melon
you tap it once and you know
I am full.
You tap it twice and you decide
that my voice deserves to meet your mother
for dinner.

You take me home
nestled between your arms,
above the ground
and I long to hear your pulse
over the surface of my skin.

You ring the doorbell
and your mother comments on my size.
She says that there is no space for me;
I am too big for your dining table.

So you take a knife through my body,
opening my insides
taking off my skin.

Red and raw,
my insides glisten.

You taste me.

I am liquid.
I am sweet.

And your mother
she loves me.

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1 Comment on "Melon"

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This poem adopts the technique of magic realism and that too brilliantly. Well-done