Peeled, something other
Than fruit.
Not the true face, or soul,
But rather some deeper section,
A viscous part, placed by nature
Where very few chance to look.
Your eyes in the night.
The taste of your kiss
Which has faded.
If not the yield, then
The softness of flesh
Below honoured flesh.
Your full body. The plum
Within your vagina,
Your breasts, like slung apples,
The watermelon spread
Of your arse.
Your raspberry rasp,
Soft, chin down,
Your sweet structure,
Like kiwi fruit
Thick with forest,
Quickly consumed
By Star’s arc.
David Erdos
Illustration Elena Caldera