poetry
1 min
Apricots On the Beach
Christina Silva
How can eating apricots on the beach feel so luxurious?
Splitting ripe fruit with sharp fingernails, big bites into
tender, vivid flesh, knowing pleasure in the bright
fleeting season of the thing,
Sweet tart juices suddenly bare pits discarded among
long-limbed girls sedated by heat, passively absorbing
the atmosphere, creating it fleetingly, easy and free. How
could they possibly see
Sand in the eyes, the smell of scorched skin, shell
fragments in the heel. A sudden shift in the wind
inciting a wild cacophony of flocks headed off to sea,
bits of flesh and bone in their beaks.
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