Pear.

Split open
voluptuous lips
death as a hook
in the pear, lonely
at my fingertips.

I say aloud
sweeter than the robes of Versailles.
What real death is that
if you can’t taste it twice?

Cut it harshly
just as if father yelled
on those rarer moments,
his bones arching legs.
Cut it with a knife
bear the skin as your cross.

I was your only bones
and face; imaginative
rattling in what I see you as.
Pear.

What it gives
let it torture the sensual Eve. She did not deserve things like this.

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Written for the 6/1/2021 dVerse prompt.

44 Comments

  1. My goodness this is potent! I especially like; “I say aloud sweeter than the robes of Versailles. What real death is that if you can’t taste it twice?”💝

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Love this especially, Lucy:
    “Cut it with a knife
    bear the skin as your cross.”

    I love a good pear, and your descriptions here are wonderful.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Gawd, I do love reading your work. It’s like visiting an amusement park for the mind. Everything from the rollercoaster to the haunted house of mirrors. Excellent writing Lucy! 🤯😉

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Stunning write. I am not so fond of the pear but you gave it dark sensuality and deathly intrigue. I love the cutting it harsely, like it has its own torture chambers and this part cuts across your poem:

    Cut it with a knife
    bear the skin as your cross.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. This is a really great poem Lucy!
    Your hook in the death pear is a wonderful image. Your flash back to the Fall and Eve is perfect. I even like your father’s rattling bones calling to you!!

    Liked by 2 people

  6. I was blown away by this Lucy, there’s so much in it. I feel the pain of a troubled childhood and there are definitely some dark and nasty undercurrents beneath the surface of this pear.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. I’ll never look at a pear again without thinking of this poem, Lucy, with its ‘split open voluptuous lips’, a deathly, lonely pear, a reminder of a yelling father. Another fruit of Eve. I agree with Sarah that the poem swings between pleasure and punishment.

    Liked by 2 people

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