Author: Harper Kingsley

PEACH

The heavy weight of hottest summer,
sweat oozing slowly across heat bared skin,
the smell of sweet delicious flooding every sense.
Ripe flesh pulled taut over golden-hued globes,
juice threatening to burst out, sweet freedom, untouched,
mouth flooding wet with the need to taste,
to lick syrupy drops out of that split crevice,
to drink down every drop of ravaged flavor,
to bite down and consume,
to reveal the wrinkled knot hidden within.
Sucking on that core, lips pursing as tongue works,
wringing free every taste, face and hands sticky,
tongue tingling, scraping against the pinching crease,
nibbling away until every trace of flavor is gone,
the core is left damp with saliva;
desire lingers, but succulent flesh is completely spent.
All that’s left is to wait for time to bring ripeness and fresh fruit,
the sun heating fuzzy pink flesh,
as life renews, hungry desire comes again,
and golden-tinged globes swell with delicious fullness,
ready to taste.

APPLE

Red flesh bit crisply to reveal juicy insides,
sweetness with a little tart floods across the tongue,
the hedonistic thrust of flavor,
teeth biting down, crunch, crunch,
chewing, swallowing, savoring each bite.
Fingers damp with fleeing moisture,
tongue licking up every drop,
sucking on the discarded core, trailing around the fertile seeds,
then lusting after fresh new fruit, hanging heavy on the branch,
red succulent flesh unbroken, bathed in yellow light.
Mouth watering in hungry desire,
while sticky juices dry sweet against the skin,
mixing with sweat, tacky and salty,
as hunger grows to eat again.

FIRST BITE

The oven heats the room
fills the air with savory scents
of cooking meat, spices,
succulent drops of juice flow
my mouth waters and my stomach whines.
I am a patient hunter
I fight the urge to open the door and look
to breathe in that delicious taste
and wallow in the flavors that flood my mind.
I nibble on crisp slices of apple
I gnaw on carrots and tiny corn
I wait and watch the timer tick
as the meat roasts and the vegetables bloom.
It seems like forever to wait;
the oven is a smiling maw
the heat makes my skin cringe as I reach inside
freeing the hot, steaming pan of food.
The meat melts like butter to the knife
the juices pour across the vegetables;
I mix a tasty gravy to drizzle across the top
and dig in with my fork, relishing the first bite.