This Plum
Take this smallish plum
we stripped from the leaning tree
in the yard, this perfectly
normal plum with stem and leaf
still clinging. This ripe-soft
bubble of juice that will sodden
your shirt. This smooth—look closely—
not plum-colored but red
and yellow and veined through
because it is alive, because it has grown
to be a vessel of temptation
with a stone for a heart. Magical
stone, it knows how to cleave in two
and shoot green towards a star.
This plum is a grandmother
of future plums, a granddaughter
of past plums. It fits perfectly
warm in your hand so you may
roll it over, marvel at its beauty,
because you have grown
to find it beautiful because you can
bring it inside of you, translate
its life into your own.