Peach

Running in the orchard of my grandmother
Chasing the frantic peach smell
Searching for that childhood light with elaborate cool drool
juice from ripe fruit flowing chin to chest.
A sordid spring stare from
the eye of a bee and the others
in the blossom months, when the fruit is a thought of God
and wings shine.


People also view

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *