-after Diana Khoi Nguyen

 

“…hands separating peach halves from a core”

the crack that it makes

white flesh peaches crack and snap

they crunch in my mouth

textures like soft sand and

mild sweetness

launches me back to marching fields

summer heat

when my ears were drenched in sound

and my body rhythm flowed in time

with the drum beats around me

the boys I called brothers

and the shenanigans we got up to

are all in the past

but still live in the taste of peaches