Banana Half

As you reveal, you decay,
anthropomorphistry crowds
out your object impermanence
boiling your blended other 
into the bacterial remittances 

send to the subject who turned
you from a particle to a wave
and that was when I wasn't looking
at the dotted mottled ministry
of live fruit cell no longer living

testing your green fade 
against a decidedly not chartreuse 
probability; can you hear the 
scars on your upper side sing 
the once yellow song of late brown,

undone by the other peel,
made to waxy touch and bitter smell
to last as long as the day is false,
made of edible starlight

in the prelude to a singing dusk
sought by attention and carried
to the same home
that would never have let you go.

Dry mouth and a soft go of the 
gainsaid woolen firkin,
instrument of practice, which
type did you pick up when
the tiredness came over you,

of course you chose the journey
north, there was no other 
route prescribed by the limited
pliability dumbsters who
owned and plowed and

unasked, made the world 
ignorant of its former 
favorite color.

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