I’m thinking now of the plums
Italian prunes
As I do each time
I tongue one
Tease out the moment
Before my teeth break
The flesh
Do now, a bowl before me
How you climbed
On the broad back
Of the rusted bus
To reach
The top branches
Pulled them out of the sunshine
Into the shade of the house
Your whole body a wag
Like a mutt ready to play
How our teeth tore
Through the tart skin
Wet from a quick tap bath
Into the sweet flesh
Irrevocable
We devoured each
Complete
Its own counterpart
Delicious
And then they were gone
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3 comments:
I am now staring longingly at my neighbor's Italian plum tree and I feel like I need a cold shower... BRILLIANT!
yeah, baby -- if you're looking for sex and death you've come to the right blog. ;)
disclaimer: no clothes were shed in the making of this memory. they were just really good plums.
and thanks. :)
That's quite a plum and quite a poem! And I have something for you on my blog if you haven't seen it yet. ; )
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