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