Poetry Issue 4

   Issue 4: January - June 2005

Simeon Dumdum Jr.


Nocturne

And so whoever

Might come along

Would squeeze the fruit

To check its ripeness

For she who owns

The leaning tree

Does not know that

The fruit now hangs

Over the fence

Her loverís hand

Has made her dreamy

And the hands of

The passers-by

Have made the fruit

Lean on the moon

As on its mother