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Jack’s Saturday Picnic Watermelon Baby (1 Viewer)

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WF Veterans
Jack’s Saturday Picnic Watermelon Baby

Look at you,
sitting there,
eating that moon slice watermelon.
Those white teeth biting into that red sweet.

Hey you,
don’t spit those little black seeds at me.
You’re all fun, ain’t ya?
Thinking how cute you must be.
Those eyes inviting me to come over there
and lick that juice from those pretty lips.
I would, too,
except your mama’s apron keeps waving
in front of my face like a warning flag.

You sure like that watermelon, baby.
Cool, refreshing.
Just like you and me that day
we waded in the creek,
then laid out in the leaves.
You got goose bumps all over that body.
I didn’t touch, neither. Coulda though.
It was my dream.
It was my dream, but I didn’t touch.

Hey!
How many seeds are in that slice, anyway?
You’ve got 'em in my hair
and everywhere.

All right for you, watermelon baby,
I’ll give it back in a black seed war,
shooting slick little seeds from between
my fingers-in between
your shrieks and laugh.
They’ll land on you like kisses.

And now,
you lay there so quiet.
I can’t tell what you’re thinking.
And holding my eyes,
clinging to the swell of your breast,
that contrast-
black against cream.
 

Darren White

co-owner and admin
Staff member
Co-Owner
I like this poem very much, it's so descriptive, full of great imagery! I'll never look at a slice of watermelon again without thinking about your poem :)
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
like this a lot apple, that last stanza, I keep re-reading and coming up with different endings...Dead, asleep, resting, sated etc.
 

jenthepen

Staff member
Mentor
This is a really good poem that holds so much tension and hovers on the edge of possibilities. The last line, especially, has so many possible interpretations and leaves the reader with a bunch of unanswered questions that replay in the mind for hours. An interesting and enjoyable poem that lingers in the memory.
 
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