Peach #1


I fell into you like a peach

in the palm of my hand. A yellow peach,

bright insides,

in the promise of summer heat.


In Oregon, the thorned vines

make hills unclimbable. In

our home, I am missing you,



I want to split a peach with

my hands. I want my thumbs

in the flesh, the juice dripping

on the ground. I want to think,

“I’ll clean that up later.”

I want to half that thing in

a barbarous way. It’s summertime;


let me eat peaches.


Peach #3


My mom is going to come home soon

And I ask if I’ve eaten and I’ll say yes

And that will be enough.


I have eaten two small peaches. The

Bigger peaches aren’t ripe yet. I tear

The meat from the pit with diligence.

I don’t know why I’m not hungry anymore

Or why I won’t ask for help.

Peach #4


The peaches are too hard today. My mom

Would call them rock hard but

Really they are more apple hard. Somehow

Less sour but also better sour. An

All around improvement. I have eaten unripe

Peaches better than anything still

Warm from the sun. But not today, today I am

Patient. I could hide my peaches

In a brown paper bag to hasten the ripening

But why hide a perfect thing?


Cherry #1


& a cherry is a heart, too.

a soft red thing

hiding a common stone,

itself essential to some

quiet integrity.

it stops the teeth; savior.






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