Tuesday, May 27, 2008

  • Ode

    Peach.  Une pêche. 

    Fuzzy on the outside

    like a downy throat. 

    Thin skin freckled

    like a weathered décolletage. 

    Colors warm, sun orb.

     

    I squeeze it in my palm to

    check its firmness;

    it smears a fecund scent

    sur, dans ma main. 

    Does it invite my teeth? 

    Will it promise to drip

    drooling down my chin. 

    Dribble.  I have been

    waiting for this moment

    since summer’s end last year.

     

    I do revere

    the fruit.


    Meditating your way to a healthier mind?

Comments (12)

  • Choose Identity

  • Give eProps (?)

  • New! You can now edit your comments for 15 minutes after submitting.

Who recommended?