Peach

Giovanni Ambrogio Figino - Metal Plate with Peaches and Vine Leaves

Giovanni Ambrogio Figino - Metal Plate with Peaches and Vine Leaves Courtesy of Wikipedia


A peach shirt,
not really your color,
hung and waiting
on cold metal wire.

I called, to be sure
you wouldn’t mind
the borrowing
before I slipped
and slithered my body
into the color. Peach
warm, Peach soft weave
covering my skin.

I remembered the color,
its connotation
with Georgia – the South,
remembered
my so far-away home
where peach meant
sweet-juice-filled fruit,
ripe for picking.

A few hours later,
you peel the peach shirt
away from my limbs,
biting into the warm-deep flesh
of Southern hot-brown skin.

~ January 2012


That One Peach

 
 

There is
that
one peach
over-ripe
battered and bruised
on one side
that I must have —
craving modest
imperfection
as the bite sinks deep
and the juice
rolls gently
down my chin.
The
imperfect things
often hold
the greatest pleasure,
a lingering sweetness
that outlasts time.
I am
a devourer
of imperfection —
leaving
all the perfect things
for someone else.

~July 2011

 

 

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