Peach Poem

When you have a peach,
what do you do?
Do you squeeze it and mash it
up against your teeth?
Do you grip it heavy and
rough like a ball and leave
dents with your fingers
as you switch hands?
Do you sniff it and tease it
a little bit before easing
it into your mouth?
Do you suck all the juice
before it drips down
your wrists, and into the
pit of your arm?
Do you let the warm sugary
blood from the fruit
glide willingly down
to the floor?

I've seen a knife taken
right to its core.
I've seen it peeled and
skinned alive.
I've seen the fibers grasp
at air.
I've seen skinless yellow
flesh without a hair.
I've seen it in the hands
of women.
I've seen it lay
by the wayside.
I've seen it sour
like a lemon.
I've seen it in the hands
of men, devoured
like a clementine.

That isn't all.
I haven't seen it all.

So what do you do with a peach?
Watch next time.