Still life

A desert patch
orthogonal
to the delicious
of apple red,
in parallel highways
north-south
on a tilted axis.
A wilted core,
bitten to the bitter
housing poisoned
seeds housed
in a nest
of arrested bananas.
A knife cuts
angularly
the painting in two
resting atop a board,
breaded by crumbs,
mussel shells on the shore
of driftwood
sanded
banded
by the slicing
action
of utensil prehensile.
The human mind
dreamt this
one evening
evening
even,
strangling
the idea of a still life.
Go on.