Suicide Mango

by Juliet Antill

September, and soft plump pendulums
dangle from mama-mango

each gilded orb marking time
in the hungry breeze.

A sharp gust loosens
the maternal bond

and a single fruit falls,
skims fearlessly the steep

green awning;
it lands on concrete

rupturing its flawless skin
scattering the sunlight of its flesh.