STONE FRUIT POEMS
I fell into you like a peach
in the palm of my hand. A yellow peach,
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.
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.
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?
& a cherry is a heart, too.
a soft red thing
hiding a common stone,
itself essential to some
it stops the teeth; savior.
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Have a dope day and keep rockin'.