Their juiced heft in the hand,
of a small head one has waited
I slice one in half for us
your cheek pillow-printed no doubt,
late in life. My incisions are surgical,
pink inside, the perfect, evenly
a porcelain plate. Sugar for you,
are always compared to tumors?—
right there on her fallopian tubes,
vine, a branch in need of pluck.
carefully misbuttoned, five years
what you will say. It is what you say
for you is halved on the table,
I know what you will say. But still
for the hungry words to come.