Limón

Sometimes, 
if only cherries
had a kiss. 
Sprouting 
endearing pestilence. 
Most, yes - 
alright - 
all
of the time, 
I’d rather 
have lemons’
early dew. 

in the soft torrential curls that
pool at the base
in that fresh morning milk
comes the caustic awakening
sonrojo en su sonrisa
the same flavor as sunrise

I’d rather 
tener palos para
construir una cabaña.
I’d like you to
scratch my chest,
claw at the limbs,
burn from the roots,
and watch my fruit



fall.