Eating a Wampee

The skin parts like curtains,
Out tumbles a tender load.
The tongue fumbles for the flesh,
Flicking, shoving,
Letting the sweetness guide its plunder
Like a traitor’s hand.

Two seeds glisten in the quiet of a palm.
Beside them the shriveled skin
Neatly folded upon itself
Without a hint of an arc.
Like a moth that wasted away
Eating velvet.