Voices in Humanism

Unripe Persimmons

The persimmons are out of season.
A commercial convenience-
But, I purchased them anyway.

Its flesh firm beneath my fingertips.
As the paring knife slices,
the unripe fruit into pieces.
Its tannin linger, my lips pucker.

There is no resemblance,
between the glossy fruit
shared over family holidays
and chilled autumn evenings.

Persimmons, so soft –
the skin tore upon contact.

It isn’t the sweetness
of persimmons that I miss.
But, the everyday moments,
I took for granted…

Now my memory is struggling
to recall, to those precious
minutes. So, I eat unripe
persimmons in April instead.

Stephanie Wentzel
The OSU College of Medicine Class of 2023
Poet