Between Breakfast and Bedsheets

Nicole eats

Nicole Lyons

Even now
at the end
of my summers
I look for one.
Skin just so
and weathered
from the sun,
swinging defiantly
from the branches
I pluck it, and
it fills my palm.
My thumb
makes quick work
of swirling
down the valley
to warm its flesh
before burying my face
into hot fuzz.
And it gives
way between my teeth,
creamy texture
dropping its dress
beneath my tongue
dripping down
my face and
as if it were me,
seasons too soon,
between breakfast
and bedsheets.

© Nicole Lyons 2017

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