I dreamed of a bitter fruit in the night

its dancing seeds pried from me

my respite

a rich burnt smell as if

a child had been set alight

A riotous ocean wavefront

came to me, as i curled up on a white shore

as if Gods own punitive hand

had lashed the sea up onto me

The seeds, charred and smoking,

jeered at me with acrid breath

and i turned the other cheek (like a wise apostle)

with a digit deep inside  my nostril