It’s muddy on the bottom and has scratches on the side
It’s heavier than expected, but it’s the biggest one I spied
On the stem, my fingers pinch with small splinters
When I carry it to the back with its sisters
It’s ready for death once it’s dried
It feels the tiniest bit sinister to stab the blade so deep
I carve a puzzle in its top so the lid doesn’t seep
The worst is still ahead as my rings are filled with gook
I shiver with fingers of ice and pluck seeds for the cook
Then my skin is dried, recalling the knife that slipped and made me weep
Already I’m behind, my brother chisels a fancy house
My mother has replicated a princess without a speck on her blouse
A phone screen shows my chosen muse, a ghostly trio
But in the last second I switch to Stitch and Lilo
My penned in alien sadly looks more like a mouse
My carving is not precise, I’m so impatient
All tiny knives are gone and I use a large replacement
Once the yellow orange skin is fully hacked
My favorite part is punching pieces and then extract
Parts of the image usually gets broken due to placement
But I could not care less if my round friend does not match
The muse on my screen, I’m still attached
The lopsided face smiles at me through the window
I press my face against the glass to watch the flickering glow
My favorite memory, our miniature pumpkin patch
Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay
Good Fruit 