he gave me a shabby old pouch
filled up with pomegranate seeds
& i wondered what this could mean
how fertile he wished me to be

he showed how many seeds i got
as much as happy days are left
& i swore we’d marry right there
no priest nor church ‘neath nude sun’s haze

he squeezed a seed ‘tween two fingers
& the juice sprinkled his palm red
like virginity on crisp sheets
i did not even hesitate