I’d not the
But I must
a poetic prose
excerpted from the poem
By D. H. Lawrence
The proper way to eat a fig, in society,
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied,
heavy-petalled four-petalled flower.
Then you throw away the skin
Which is just like a four-sepalled calyx,
After you have taken off the blossom with your lips.
But the vulgar way
Is just to put your mouth to the crack,
and take out the flesh in one bite.
Every fruit has its secret.
The fig is a very secretive fruit.
As you see it standing growing,
you feel at once it is symbolic:
And it seems male.
But when you come to know it better,
you agree with the Romans,
it is female.
The Italians vulgarly say, it stands for
the female part; the fig-fruit:
The fissure, the yoni,
The wonderful moist conductivity
towards the centre.
The flowering all inward and womb-fibrilled;
And but one orifice.
The fig, the horse-shoe, the squash-blossom.
There was a flower that flowered inward, womb-ward;
Now there is a fruit like a ripe womb.
It was always a secret.
That’s how it should be,
should always be
And for even more fascinating information about this sacred, and sultry fruit :
“Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate.”
This image was captured late one afternoon when I ventured up an outdoor spiral staircase of a vacant home around the corner from mine…I was looking for Glinda and the Munchkins, but could not find them.
Much Love ~ RL