Papaya Warmth

     There are blackberries
Nestled in my curls,
And beneath the thorns
The dark treasures lurk.
And spiraling down my neck,
A grapevine grows,
The bright berries shaking merrily as I step.
And if you breathe lightly,
You can smell the slight musk of the orange papaya
Growing deep inside my chest,
Cuddled against the warmth of my beating heart.
And the jewels I carry,
Plentiful in my hands,
Are the tiny seeds of pomegranate.
And sitting high atop my shoulders,
A bunch of green bananas,
Firm and healthy
The sun will ripen,
Tanning my skin.
My warm blood pulsates,
Bringing life
To the golden pineapple,
Nestled inside a set of ribs,
Taking cover while it grows larger
And larger still.
An umbilical cord
Suckles a watermelon,
Enveloped in darkness
And growing steadily.
The moist nothingness,
Positive against negative,
Is good for growing.
How all life starts.