From the Japanese
Diospyros kaki
You came in from the rain
carrying four persimmons,
four translucent suns –
a taste, you said, your lips
had never visited.
Later, opened, surrendered,
we spooned flesh
and seed from the orange cups –
mouthfuls of light, perfume
that draws the whole body in.
Eyes closed, we tried,
and failed, to give words
to a sweetness we were
in danger of forgetting
we deserved and only we
could pluck the fruit.
Beautiful! As Eliot didn’t quite say 100 years ago, do I dare to eat a persimmon?