To my young mother whom my thought conceived
And sultrily hatched, my heart she conceived:
I felt fostered in her luscious bosom
I lay and nestled in plushy peacock plume.
To my quaint mother jeweled on her chest
With breasts of burden and leisurely nipples:
You '...have nothing to prove..., ' 'nd ev'r owned yourself,
I love you, your furs - hairs 'n horns and thin skin.
To my piquant pomegranate eloped
For youthfulness, I'm weaned but long for warmth
...Your skin gilt with nettles, eye in bloodless glare.
To my pretty pomegranate eloped:
Be free as the wind, but smooth as sea breeze;
I feel not forsaken, I'll be born 'gain.
Igwe Kalu
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/xi-pomegranate/
