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Fiesta Melons

 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.
Chooose 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.

Poem by Sylvia Plath
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