Fruit

By Adam Lowe

Poem

You call me a fruit,
and I agree,
say

a fruit is ripe,
promising seeds,
bursting with juice.

You call me a fruit,
as though a vegetable
and I list a litany
of fresh attributes:

a fruit is rich,
remembers its roots,
nourishes, quenches,
makes a display of any table.

I say,
I am the apple
that announces the gravity
of a given situation;
I am the pomegranate
that teaches of possession;
I am the fig
our ancestors couldn’t resist.

You call me a fruit
and I agree:
soft, round and sweet.
I dare you to peel back my layers,
take a look at my pips.
Full as a watermelon,
sharp as a lime,
come over here
and bite me.

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ADAM LOWE is a writer and publisher from Leeds, educated at the University of Leeds. In 2009 he received four Lambda Award nominations, in both poetry and prose, and three British Fantasy Award nominations for works that he published. In 2008, his magazine, Polluto, was awarded the Spectrum Fantastic Art Silver Editorial Award.

He was one of the 2010 young writers in residence at the I Love West Leeds Arts Festival. He also writes for Bent and works in the marketing department at Peepal Tree Press.

Adam is a graduate of Street Voices 2 and an active member of Young Inscribe. In the past he has been a part of Critters.org and Orson Scott Card's Hatrack River Writers' Workshop. Adam regularly delivers workshops and runs an annual mentoring and masterclass programme for new writers in the North who specialise in science fiction,
fantasy, horror and cross-genre writing: the Dog Horn Masterclass Programme. Because of his work in the region, he is a Youth Ambassador for the Cultural Olympiad in Yorkshire.

He has appeared in Word Riot, Unlikely Stories, The Cadaverine, Chimeraworld 5, The Leeds Guide, WAMACK, Saucytooth's, Kaleidotrope and PoetCasting.co.uk, with work forthcoming in Ex Plus Ultra. Adam's academic writing has appeared at the University of Glasgow's eSharp and is forthcoming in the University of Texas' Queering the Fantastic.

Last year his debut novella, Troglodyte Rose, was also released in limited edition hardback by Cadaverine Publications. An expanded novel-length paperback is due out the other side of the Mayan apocalypse from a US publisher.

Check out a video of him reading here.

Bibliography:

  • Shiny Black Thing (Punk Ass Kids Productions, 2010) (anthology)
  • Troglodyte Rose (Cadaverine Publications, 2009) (novella)
  • lavenderblack (Fruit Bruise Press, 2009) (poetry)
  • Clutching at Seashells (Fruit Bruise Press, 2009) (poetry pamphlet)
  • Borrowed Time (Fruit Bruise Press, 2009) (poetry)
  • Killing Bob Marley (Punk Ass Kids Productions, 2009) (anthology)
  • Chimeraworld 5 (Chimericana Books, 2008) (anthology)
  • 4 responses to “Fruit”

    1. Reno Romero says:

      adam:

      very cool poem. loved it. the imagery of fruit worked for me. and you mention figs? don’t see this reference (in my experience) much. growing up in L.A i had a fig tree in my backyard. interesting fruit.

      I dare you to peel back my layers,
      take a look at my pips.
      Full as a watermelon,
      sharp as a lime,
      come over here
      and bite me.

      fantastic ending. thanks, sir.

      RR

    2. Wonderful poem!

      About the fig reference: Eudora Welty has figs throughout her short story “June Recital.” The town “slut” plucks them from the tree, peels them with her lips, sucks the juice.

    3. Lorna says:

      Nicely done.

    4. Adam Lowe says:

      Thanks, guys. You can actually see me reading the poem here: http://www.yorkshiretelly.com/adam-lowe-in-armley-leeds/. And I’ve got a few more poems up at http://www.adam-lowe.com.

      Figs were commonly associated with the Fruit in Eden, until quite recently (when it became apples). There’s just something about the taste of a fig which seemed appropriate. They’re also quite tart.

      It’s ironic you mention the slut in ‘June Recital’, as I wrote a remix/parallel poem of ‘Fruit’ called ‘Slut’. It has the same basic rhythm and structure, but opens instead: ‘You call me a slut / and I agree, / pants down, / spread in a V’. I like reworking my own (as well as others’) poetry to get something new.

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