fig trees in the heat
browning
beaten
supple and sweet;
surrendered
withering
going going
gone
the fruit can be eaten fresh off the tree
the sugared tears seep
pour
weep
dropping their leaves in a mauve heap
decaying purples cry
mourn
and morph into the dark brown
the dying marsh
of pruned promises
the fruit can be eaten fresh off the tree
boiled
and jellied
and shut into jars
– the lids clamp in seasonal disdain
well-trained
and drained
and catering to every strain
fresh
dried or processed
they serve
again, and again
the fruit can be eaten fresh off the tree
maybe you’d like a wasting fruit
a regal carcass of superlative seeds
a performative producer
the mother of the deep
restricted by the once
Nurturing grains of the growth
as the tree shrinks in submission
the fruit can be eaten fresh off the tree
take the
secateurs
and a pruning saw
heave
decapitate
and delay
deny the bloom
so the leaves may fall again
maybe you’d like to be
the first one to not discard it
take the fig
out of date
unripe
unwanted
or leave them dormant until the spring
rotting
churning
the seed spilling
castrating
yet flowing
feeding the fertile hisses of the deep
count the ways you can help yourself
How the figs can help you
the fruit can be eaten fresh off the tree
or however you’d like really
a helpful note:
this isn’t about figs