Sylvia Plath

Fiesta Melons

In Benidorm there are melons, Whole donkey-carts full Of innumerable melons, Ovals and balls, Bright green and thumpable Laced over with stripes Of turtle-dark green. Chooose an egg-shape, a world-shape, Bowl one homeward to taste In the whitehot noon : Cream-smooth honeydews, Pink-pulped whoppers, Bump-rinded cantaloupes With orange cores. Each wedge wears a studding Of blanched seeds or black seeds To strew like confetti Under the feet of This market of melon-eating Fiesta-goers.

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