FRUITS




Stained sky blooms frame the trees
Morning toasts already
Spread too thin 
Last bit of cream to stretch 
Till Friday 
A lower lip shudder sucked up
Perch parched on top chopped on countertop

Domestic pleasure points a finger back at the dirty sink  
wrinkled cloth
Not just yet to wake the baby
Not just yet to start the day 
The fruits of Quarantine are ripening

A midday bath 
Draws smoke signals up
Invisible to night eyes
The fruits of quarantine are ripening  
 
We exhume forgotten cheese to eat with honey smeared mouths
Delighting in our spoils
A breastfed nap is now a moment to savor.
I let her stir slowly 
waking in my arms 
The fruits of quarantine are ripening

We walk together 
Through the forest 
Synchronized breathing
I can feel him again
Inside me 
No goodbye kiss
He has nowhere to go 
The fruits of quarantine are ripening 

Each night I wait 
And morning I wake 
Anticipating the turn from ripe to rot.





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