Poetry

She walks to the porch
and she carries a basket full of pomegranates from the orchard
while the brown dog is running all around her,
 
at the step to the porch her husband greets her without a word
and a pomegranate falls so hard that the pips scatter
and she carries a basket full of pomegranates from the orchard,
 
she steps into the red juice that sticky blots the floor,
she barely hears his damn it
and a pomegranate falls so hard that the pips scatter,
 
and he says that she is incompetent and clumsy
but her gaze is on the road,
she barely hears his damn it
 
and she hopes that a shining new car will on a day take her away
and docile she bends to pick up the remains of the two fruit
but her gaze is on the road,
 
where she is setting her scope into the distance.
She walks to the porch
and docile she bends to pick up the remains of the two fruit
while the brown dog is running all around her.