An Advent Pomegranate
By Jolene Nolte
About the pomegranate I must say nothing for its story is somewhat of a holy mystery.—Pausanias
Christmas Eve, we remember
Elizabeth and Mary—barren,
virgin mothers bearing
their sacred children.
I prepare a contribution for tomorrow’s feast,
a festive salad with feta, mandarin oranges,
pomegranate. As I deseed the pomegranate,
crimson pools on the cutting board, splatters
as I quarter the fruit.
I peel back the flimsy white membrane,
carefully free the garnet berries
into a bowl. I wipe the countertop
quickly lest the bittersweet
juice leave a stain.
The empty, deep red rinds rest
beside the cutting board, white insides scraped
clean, with impressions like a cathedral
ceiling in relief.
How does one hold a symbol?
I only know the bowl’s
heaped high with the storied
seeds, and the way they remind me
of my own shape and thirst.
Later, I leave a red trail after my shower,
traces of an ancient current chambered
within me. I stain the grey towel.
Lord only knows what fruit a virgin can bear.
Jolene Nolte is a freelance writer and editor. A recent graduate of Regent College where she was twice awarded the Luci Shaw Prize for Creative Writing. She currently resides in Vancouver, BC where she cherishes her friends, the abundance of green, and drinks large volumes of coffee. She is the former poetry editor at Curator Magazine, and her poetry has appeared in Red Rock Review, Ekstasis, Crux, Fathom Magazine, and Pensive. Her poem “The Single Life” was awarded the EPA’s First Place Prize for Poetry.