A whole pomegranate, with another half of an open pomegranate beside it and seeds spilling out.

why can't i be a fruit tree?

Words by Roz Golshani, Illustrations by Abbie Lee

Published Nov. 7, 2024, 2:13 a.m.

i am a fruit tree

but a delicate rose is all you should see

— all i want you to, at least.

it would be nice to be seen as sweet

with something to give,

perhaps a peach.

more than just sweet

with enough to keep going,

a whisper from me

and your words would start flowing.

i am a fruit tree,

but i’d rather a rose.

seen as, at least.

and i wouldn’t read prose

i’d sit pretty

and quiet

and you’d only see me

if your eyes would comprise it.

a look around, and if i’m right,

just intricate, just light

maybe you’d pick me.

just quiet, just there

a rose doesn’t rustle or tustle your hair

isn’t fragile, doesn’t squish

and when it pops, it doesn’t stick

a rose knows to not,

or you’d think, without thought.

but i’d like if i could be a fruit tree

with something to give,

without having to be bitter

or having to be sweet.

i wish it was right

to simply be.