Peaches

You love those peaches

the ones that bloomed in the bright heat

to form ripe masses of sweet

sweet plump bundles that seeped

glistening strings of heady juice

that slid down your chin and accumulated

in thick puddles that clung to your lap

 

You love those peaches

they grew until their skin stretched thin

and threatened to burst along the tepid grass

 

But the summer lasted a second too long

and the peaches slumped onto the gelid cement

slowly rotting in the hum of the setting sun

their juices coating the stone in thin rivulets

and then sun stopped shining as much

and the frost kissed plant shriveled in on itself

 

And you chopped down that peach tree

it took three hits before the ground shook

with the unbearable weight of the frail tree

 

And now

the sun beats down on the empty yard this summer

and we sit cramped together under the sting of the fluorescent lights

gnawing on peaches fresh from the market

mumbling about our day

despite the fact that half of it gets butchered by translation

 

And it's there

choking down dehydrated clumps of petite peaches

dusted in pastel gradients of yellow

when I struggle to swallow my tongue

desperate to crack open my ribs

and tear down the walls

with painful screams

because

I hate those peaches

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741