a poetry e-zine










Poems By Korliss Sewer

Abdul carries one rummân down a busy, tree-lined boulevard.
He peels back it’s skin; revealing the pinkish-red seeds beneath.
The familiar seems distant on his tongue as he bites into the fruit,
and savors another time, another place. Another life.

This road is different than that of home. A road without jitneys rolling through
dust clouds between neighboring villages. One without open-air markets
alive with meats, herbs, spices: sweat. Where pomegranates are sold
by merchants in small, vibrantly-colored stalls.

Gun powder.

I brush by on our narrow path, and smell Kabul on his clothes. His eyes stare downward at the pomegranate: torn open by his teeth; bleeding. His stride slowed with the loneliness of a world he will never know again.

This sidewalk never leads him home.

Korliss Sewer has been published in The Sheltered Poet, The Orange Room Review, BlazeVOX, Sunken Lines and soon to be published in Gutter Eloquence.  She is an English Literature graduate from the University of Washington, and loves to sip wine while watching the world go by.

Copyright 2010  Chantarelle's Notebook