Ode to the Last and Smallest Tomato on the Table

By Simeon Dumdum Jr.

So you escaped the knife 
Or perhaps it escaped you 
Because you are too small, 
Or red, evoking sunset,
Whose sky no lightning knifes 
Until it turns dark gray
(As yet the weather owes
The world no violence).
Being the last tomato 
Means that you’ve been ignored,
Too small to be of use 
Except to call up silence,
Or prompt indifference, 
Perhaps because assassins 
Will waste no bullet on
The tiniest of tomatoes,
Or wield a knife on something 
That merely looks like blood
That dripped down from its point,
Red globule on the ground,
One of the many spilled
With every quick knife thrust
Or sudden burst of gun.
What happens on the streets
Should not happen to you — 
No gun or knife should come 
To hurt the last and smallest 
Tomato on the table.

6 August 2016