Apology
Because I did not hunger
I ate your apricot: because I’m a beast,
not craving flesh just the dark, gnarled pit:
because these are all the shards on the floor
and the one unbreakable glass:
because you told me not to
I gobbled whole globes, soft
bites whispering off, and off, and off
until I unbuckled my belt to fit myself:
because I wanted you to catch me,
throttle me, and take my fingers in your mouth:
because it hurt to breathe
those colors, its skin all fire and earth:
because the fruit was firm,
the flat of your palm,
against my cheek: because bruised
skin spares no tongue its sugar—
—DERRICK AUSTIN