Home » Poetry » peaches

peaches

An idea
fosters questions.

And questions
raise ideas.

Picked like peaches,
pickled and peppered,

in sealed mason jars,
upon dusty wood shelf
buried in a garage that smells
of gasoline, and summer.

Where as kids playing nerf
we never raised such questions

not having any idea
of the hungry beast out there

waiting, sharpening its claws
using our parents as dental floss,

grooming its teeth, and ready
for the day

it too, could devour our peaches.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “peaches

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s