Three Poems: Fruit Of Life

[Image description: photograph of two cherries hanging from a leafy tree branch. The fruit is dripping with water.]

Clare Black / Creative Commons

heart of nothing

I laid you belly up on the bed,
my hair drifting across your face.
It was then that I could trace you.

Peeled-back eyes like grapes
and balls like swollen kumquats -
at night, we were silky silhouettes
with skin freckled by candlelight.

We were underwhelmed in our hearts of nothing;
two calendar pages filled me
with kisses that roamed
the daylight, and the lies
breathed deeply into my hair.

Midnights, you occasionally lingered
in my kitchen,
flicking cigarette ash in my sink
and sipping champagne
from my last plastic cup.

You bloomed me into my body,
reached inside me to show
how you would keep me in my place,
causing me to surrender love
for lust’s sake
forever.

he knew I would come like this

swallowed
wallowed
cherry whole
no chewed
bitten pit
spit it
to the
floor
and
I’m
floored
by my ride
as I writhe
down your throat
and I might plant a seed
to make your belly grow
a cherry tree
and chop it down
so that you may never tell
whose very merry cherry juice
has slipped all down your throat

apple seed

we’ll write and unwind
our thoughts in a curl
that unfurls
like the skin from an apple

peeling
until the core is revealed
and the seeds fall
into our lingering laps

and will the truth be
that we must speak
in one another’s tongues
just a little while longer?

---

Logan Rosewood is an east coast artist and poet. She is a sex positive bisexual femme living with a pretty demanding pet cat.