A Fig Seed by Daniel Moysaenko

In Venice a fig seed pops against my teeth.
Its insides shoot out
toward the café tables
and lanterns
and the gondolas
knocking against stone houses
far submerged
but relishing it.
The way a sea turtle
covered in algae does.
Too old to protest.
To be distinguished
from the green it birthed
that swallows the body.
Daniel Moysaenko holds an MFA from the University of Massachusetts Amherst and is the author of the chapbook New Animal (H_NGM_N Books, 2015). Other work has appeared in Columbia Poetry Review, Mid-American Review, Oversound, Pleiades, Rain Taxi, and The Volta. He is pursuing a poetry PhD at Florida State University.