You should say

Scraped hollow, it was only fruit
you said, as you pointed to the painting,
with no purpose but to return
my eyes to the picture of the pomegranate,
to focus me on the nonhuman world
of the still-life. You said, last night
you packed into boxes, you took the fragments,
the seeds of the fight, buried them
under old records, under sweaters
& other sewn up things. Slice a circle
out of any wall, whether museum or not,
I said, you will find art, you will find rot,
you will find the color of all hidden things.
I said, you should say that you’re sorry.
You said, I don’t have to do more
than remember where the scissors are,
because scotch tape and cardboard are weak
& our eyesight might be salty, but it’s clear.


Darren Demaree