Figs
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 skinWhich is just like a four-sepalled calyx,After you have taken off the blossom, with your lips.
But the vulgar wayIs 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.
Every fruit has its secret.
… … … . .
Honey-white figs of the north, black figs with scarlet inside, of the south.Ripe figs won’t keep, won’t keep in any clime.What then, when women the world over have all bursten into affirmation ?And bursten figs won’t keep ?
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That was the poet, this was my memory:
The proper way to eat a fig in Alexandria, was to steal it from the neighbor. Climb the tree and look for the ripest fruit. Hide under the tree while eating. Slither away with a satisfied smile.
We had to be careful of the milk, my mother said if you touched your eyes, you could go blind. It never stopped us.
The sweetest ones were on the ground. You had to get them before the worms and ants.
