fruit at the rodin
growing up, i ate kiwis
like apples. my mom would cut them into slices
but when she wasn’t around
i chomped down on them whole
to let sour juices fall down my chin
this afternoon i am eating delicate
slices from whole foods
i can see there are little veins
connecting the seeds
of the kiwi to its core
i never noticed this before
i learned recently
raspberries are roses
or part of the family, at least
and them and strawberries
aren’t berries at all
i heard it’s because
their seeds are on the outside
or something, maybe something
anyway
what i meant to say is
by the end of winter i forget how
peaches are my favorite fruit.
not-quite-ripe kiwis are
somehow easier to find
and i tend to cling
to what’s close
like apples. my mom would cut them into slices
but when she wasn’t around
i chomped down on them whole
to let sour juices fall down my chin
this afternoon i am eating delicate
slices from whole foods
i can see there are little veins
connecting the seeds
of the kiwi to its core
i never noticed this before
i learned recently
raspberries are roses
or part of the family, at least
and them and strawberries
aren’t berries at all
i heard it’s because
their seeds are on the outside
or something, maybe something
anyway
what i meant to say is
by the end of winter i forget how
peaches are my favorite fruit.
not-quite-ripe kiwis are
somehow easier to find
and i tend to cling
to what’s close
in the grass
with silk ribbons draped from your neck
like ballet shoes
sitting in the sunlight noise,
you are rich, almost to the point of sweetness
troubles drawn out slowly
from under your skin.
my toes are covered in lemon juice &
i have river water on my hands that won’t wash off
i ask you to come stretch my bones
today, i am trying to find the heavens.
i can see remnants of god in the angels of your face,
yes the angels, playing lightly on your cheekbones
i watch melodies form & think of your fingertips
on my palms & of a girl who read them once.
a single deep, solid line to represent love, i was told
my influence turns weak halfway through my life
yet still, my love remains; a crevice
making its way through my fingers
like a river.
“here.”
you extend your arms towards me
& it is my choice to grab hold
like ballet shoes
sitting in the sunlight noise,
you are rich, almost to the point of sweetness
troubles drawn out slowly
from under your skin.
my toes are covered in lemon juice &
i have river water on my hands that won’t wash off
i ask you to come stretch my bones
today, i am trying to find the heavens.
i can see remnants of god in the angels of your face,
yes the angels, playing lightly on your cheekbones
i watch melodies form & think of your fingertips
on my palms & of a girl who read them once.
a single deep, solid line to represent love, i was told
my influence turns weak halfway through my life
yet still, my love remains; a crevice
making its way through my fingers
like a river.
“here.”
you extend your arms towards me
& it is my choice to grab hold
✱✱✱
| leigh marques is a non-binary poet and gemini moon currently living in philadelphia. leigh spends most of their time thinking about angels and talking about love on twitter: mo0ndrool |
