I.

I.

What are these fruits
But sparking electricities?

Plum’s song —
Swollen with noon heat.
Bursting, purple flesh
Then scatter.

Into these cages,
Breaking the brightness against the sound of the body.

Flesh against flesh —
To spill the juice from the fruit;
Whet the dawn ground.

Come again,
Met with brief milk
Thrown from skins.