Persimmons

Dan Wiencek

imagine my surprise when I am told 
that persimmons can scream, shake the leaves 
off their own branches with a piercing note 
that only the truly gifted can hear. now imagine 

I am the owner of a grove of persimmon trees 
refusing to scream, ranked in rows like 
parking meters. they’re deaf to pleas or threats 
and appear to have nothing but time. 
frustrated, I find a frigid sea and swim in it. 

my teeth chatter, my fingertips won’t meet and 
by the time the persimmons actually get around 
to screaming it is too late and I have gorged myself
on so many fruits from my orchard I turn orange
and lay where I have fallen. a thousand indifferent
howls stir the leaves.

Dan Wiencek is a poet, critic, and humorist who lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and whose work has appeared in Sou’wester, New Ohio Review, Timberline Review, Carve, and other publications. His first collection of poems, Routes Between Raindrops, is available from First Matter Press.