Poems and Pickles
by Dilly Attygalle
sometimes there’s nothing
left to do
but bottle
these moments
of silent desolation
inside a verse
between lines
like amma
pickles mangoes
when they are
bruised
over-ripe
or bittersweet
seeds covered in
bright yellow flesh
once fresh
and swollen with promise
fruits
easily discardable
and yet preserved
for a later time.