How to eat a …

The pursuit of a pomegranate

Had I blindly reached into the bowl of fruit, I could’ve mistaken her for a worn leather baseball. I could barely palm two-thirds of her round, rough and thinning surface as I rolled her onto the counter and drew a knife across her midline. The halves toppled away from each other and a dark stream of ruby juice trickled out, leaving my paring knife to rest in the puddle that was sure to stain my cutting board. I picked up the top half, admiring the inconsistencies in her once vibrant, now dull red exterior that was slowly fading to pink. My fingers danced across the brown and yellow bruises and dents of her outer shell and I placed her face down in a nearby bowl of cold water. I used my thumb to brush the jewels from their casing and kernel-sized ruby beads were ejected, sinking to the bottom of the bowl, while the paper-thin pulp floated to the surface.