The Prune (Ghazal) Poem by Leslie Alexis

It was smooth and solid when I picked it,
But after month it became a wrinkled old lady.

Whose youthful navy blue aged into purple,
The color of the potent juice that comes from it.

One day in ignorance, I drank a full cup.
And that same day, a whole lot more came out of me.

Pepto and Mr. Magnesia could not compare.
It s was a repulsive sight and hence no more.

The next day I felt as light as a bee,
Who jumped and screamed whoopee doo doo.

Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis