Untitled - July 21, 2002
The summer heat burns
in a slow blaze
against the ripe flesh
of peach gold.
As the rum soaks into
hardened surfaces,
everything takes on
a different haze --
sweetened by time
and tempered by heat.
It is a slow burn
that gradually melts away
everything between
the top
and the hidden core,
until all that's left
is the red center
rigid to the touch.
Every bite sends a cascade
of juices
dripping down all sides,
eyes playfully watching
as the explosion of taste
overwhelms everything else.
Sharp nibbles
combined with a steady suction
yields fruity flesh
in a wild combination.
The last bites
end with a low hum
of happiness,
where the flush of red
has faded to pale peach.
(
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