Fruit

The orchard knows:
we are not feeling this
the world is not
falling in on itself
trying to understand
why it hates the sinner
and loves the sin

Forget the Union, Jack
the scabs you've flicked
are growing right back
checking themselves in to stay
I am always A-1/Ace/FlyingHigh/FreeandFine/OK

you've left me plum
juice drops like
quiet bruises on my skin
At least, that's what
a loving hand would be
instead of my mimicking vine
I think all of this
to certain death:

You are not the heat
I want to push on, the
weight I want to lift, that
invading-filling piece
struggling towards a
mini-apocalypse in the sheets
but you will do for now

No sabes como te has metido
...this good?
Since I was born
There are crows
swimming in the reservoir
black-bear black backstroking through white
my hair tracing diagrams on your chest
you can neither
understand nor remove

Athena knows what it's like
to have this sight
from birth we come marching
to the edge of psychosis
hold hands and
dip our necks in
spit-and-shine
clean the swine
fill our nostrils
slick with brine

we are not kind women
but we are the kind
who choke on love
and swing through puppet lives
watching each other
give accidental tugs
as we weave our
shimmering strings.

You've left me peach
swollen with emptiness
coreless, stemless
Try to keep my juice
my stain
on your lips and skin
but I am pull-the-root
float-the-river
jump-the-vine
ripe to fall

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~