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

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