-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…

Juicy peaches, sweet fresh, sitting in flowered bowl ripening, waiting   The image and smell of peaches take me back to my seventh year to a kitchen that was shady and cool in the heat of a summer afternoon, to an old home lived in…

Hate. Such a vile word. The feelings it derives are guttural. As if I’ve contracted food poisoning. I hate Peaches. Those Fuzzy. Devilish fruits. Hanging Ever so innocently from their trees. Do not believe them. They are liars. Their colours welcoming. Yet their Innards strike a…