hidden fruit

 

he had been and continues

to be a fruit hidden behind leaves

but ripe and sweet as any other

fruit, visible or sparkling

though like any other he glows

with gloss, men and women

and children with prejudices

for the transgender has mistaken

and he is considered a root

good only to hold the tree

from falling while other fruits

to be praised go to the market

© henry victor

the poet

i saw the poet picking yesterday’s crumbs

his only possession, the typed manuscript

and dwelling in a solitary habitation

with no one peeping through his window

he’s that lonely hill, far from other hills

and songs of praise never arrive at foot;

he has withstood snowstorms and rains

his only staple food and strong drink

he dumps piles of papers at his door

nay! rejection notes, with more jeering

harder than real rocks they throw at

to cover alive after washing with his tears

© henry victor     07.05.2003