For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.

Look at all the life in this,” she said. “Every pip could become a tree, and every tree could bear another hundred fruits and every fruit could bear another hundred trees. And so on to...

A cascade of thousands of pomegranate pits fructify her from above and female hands maculate the goddess’s body in the musical mists of mind-blowing nightly sex. But they won’t fuck her, they will kill her.

I felt my heart crack slowly like a pomegranate, spilling its seeds.