Ode to a honey pomelo

Bloodrush honeyfruit, pink peony fruit
I was watching when she cut you wide
and held you in her hands,
skin loose amongst the plums.

Half-grapefruit, half-tangelo fruit,
I knew next time I’d do it myself.
I carried you home in my arms,
wet and sour unopened bloom.

Tight-skinned,
swollen moon-lipped fruit,
I set you down and took the knife
to your cheek.

Pink tourmaline fruit,
I pulled into the pulp of you,
peeled your sugar membrane back
to bite the blood blossom core of you.

Bitter fruit of burst stars,
you knew the boy was coming
when he placed you in the bowl of offerings
upon the grave.

Night-blooming blush fruit,
like me you felt his hands
around you and you rolled with want,
split open to the rain.

 

Nina Mingya Powles is a writer from Aotearoa New Zealand living in London. She is half Malaysian-Chinese. Her set of chapbooks Luminescent was published in 2017 by Seraph Press, and her poetry pamphlet field notes on a downpour is now available from If A Leaf Falls Press. In 2018 she was a recipient of the inaugural Women Poets’ Prize, and she is currently poetry editor at The Shanghai Literary Review.