rainstorm after rainstorm,
afternoon
after humid bluegray afternoon—
the avocado in the kitchen
(tough green, in memory, as
the skin of an alligator)
has been growing imperceptibly
softer;
but the large pit
ensconced away at its center is
hard as ever
and poison to eat.
Take note of this, I think
to my own aggrieved species—
keep your composure;
there is nothing we can do
in time
but yield
to one another,
but never
will they take
our dark heart—that small enraged oval
that none would dare conquer,
that is the part
which is ours.
