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Empty Nest
Norma Evans Barber
11-29-10

The silence of a quiet nest
Surrounds me
As I sit at the sink
Chewing on my probiotic pomegranate seeds
Blood red and juicy,
Severing with my tongue seed from seed
Through and around bridge cavities, 
Bunching groups of tasteless seeds together
To the left side of my mouth.
Yes, it’s an art!
I release with one big suck and swallow
The juice blocked away on the right, 
Then with one strong swoosh
Eject bundled lumps of pits into the trash.
I feel—sheer mind over matter—
The juice purify my under scalp
And think how beneficial it must be
To have juicy red blood
Sanitize my brain.

Is my retreat to sensory eating
Symptomatic of our communication barrier?
Or an indication 
That years have rolled by us
Leaving age, and self, and
Peculiar quirks
That cause me to believe
The dream of growing old together and loving it
Is just for us and many more
A myth, a mirage, a dream?

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