Slicing Avocados

The Dharma is like an Avocado!
     — Gary Snyder

When you slice a ripe avocado
lengthwise, along its prime meridian,

cleave it in two through its thin, dimpled skin,
open its creamy green flesh to plein air,

one half holds onto the nut-brown seed
and the other half lies bare, exposed

with a gaping depression in the curvature
of absence, the seed-shaped contour of loss.

Standing at the counter, slicing avocados,
looking up, thinking about divorce.


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Slicing Avocados

  1. Lake Writer says:

    Really love the complicated simplicity of this poem.

  2. pixieannie says:

    I love your style. The imagery is awesome. I can totally relate to this.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s