ode to the watermelon

a good poem to ring in the summer....

Ode to the Watermelon

The tree of intense 
summer, 
hard, 
is all blue sky, 
yellow sun, fatigue in drops, 
a sword 
above the highways, 
a scorched shoe 
in the cities: 
the brightness and the world 
weigh us down, 
hit us 
in the eyes 
with clouds of dust, 
with sudden golden blows, 
they torture 
our feet 
with tiny thorns, 
with hot stones, 
and the mouth 
suffers 
more than all the toes: 
the throat 
becomes thirsty, 
the teeth, 
the lips, the tongue: 
we want to drink 
waterfalls, 
the dark blue night, 
the South Pole, 
and then 
the coolest of all 
the planets crosses 
the sky, 
the round, magnificent, 
star-filled watermelon.

It's a fruit from the thirst-tree. 
It's the green whale of the summer.

The dry universe 
all at once 
given dark stars 
by this firmament of coolness 
lets the swelling 
fruit 
come down: 
its hemispheres open 
showing a flag 
green, white, red, 
that dissolves into 
wild rivers, sugar, 
delight!

Jewel box of water, phlegmatic 
queen 
of the fruitshops, 
warehouse 
of profundity, moon 
on earth! 
You are pure, 
rubies fall apart 
in your abundance, 
and we 
want 
to bite into you, 
to bury our 
face 
in you, and 
our hair, and 
the soul! 
When we're thirsty 
we glimpse you 
like 
a mine or a mountain 
of fantastic food, 
but 
among our longings and our teeth 
you change 
simply 
into cool light 
that slips in turn into 
spring water 
that touched us once 
singing. 
And that is why 
you don't weigh us down 
in the siesta hour 
that's like an oven, 
you don't weigh us down, 
you just 
go by 
and your heart, some cold ember, 
turned itself into a single 
drop of water.

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