Amma deseeded all the pomegranates

with narrowed routes within.

She sat on the cement floor.

wore an onion-smelling nighty

and made a small hill of pomegranate seeds

on a floral-print plate.

we ate all of it. 

Amma ate none

except for one or two seeds

scattered over the floor.

we won’t eat it, of course.

 because of the dirt.

even after these many years,

i can smell those red seeds.