hanging from bone-tree,
bright, robust and waiting
for you to taste
the candied sunshine-
you stand there green
and hating.
am I not sweet enough?
am I a threat-?
you strip my peel,
vibrant, crimson fresh
and become bitter,
spitting acid,
mottled flesh.
you squeeze my essence,
leave me with the gagging pulp,
mock as I bleed
through a sieve of fat;
begruding fingers
sting where your
bloody hangnails linger,
just moments before
you eat the luscious fruit
and floss your yellow teeth
with my arteries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem