Fiesta Melons, by Sylvia Plath

16 September 2012

In Benidorm there are melons,
Whole donkey-carts full

Of innumerable melons,
Ovals and balls,

Bright green and thumpable
Laced over with stripes

Of turtle-dark green.
Choose an egg-shape, a world-shape,

Bowl one homeward to taste
In the whitehot noon :

Cream-smooth honeydews,
Pink-pulped whoppers,

Bump-rinded cantaloupes
With orange cores.

Each wedge wears a studding
Of blanched seeds or black seeds

To strew like confetti
Under the feet of

This market of melon-eating
Fiesta-goers.

///

The third food-and-drink poem in a row.

The idea of ‘thumpable’ fruit reminds me of an otherwise gentle friend, who strains to contain a neurosis: to punch other people’s birthday cakes. The poem also gives something new to think about the next time I find myself bowling…

[Read in Collected Poems, published by Faber & Faber. Ripped from http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/sylviaplath/1396.]

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