The morning
light finely
dresses
the fruit
on my table
but the fruit
is immature.
too early my
grandmother
would say
if she
were here.
hard to
the touch,
a pit in
the heart.
I steal away
with fruit
anyway,
mouth
longing
for the
sweet wet
flesh. I bite
into a
"Peach"
-- A mealy,
tasteless
noun.
Desire
difficult
to
extinguish.
I follow
the brush
strokes of
the still
life painted
-- Nothing
else to do.
I wait
around
all day
-- long-
ing.
c.a. leibow has been published in numerous journals such as Barrow Street, Interim, Juked, Poetry Motel, and Stray Dog Review. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Award and a Utah Book Award. He is a graduate of Antioch University with a Masters Degree in Poetry. Being a poet, he has needed to find ways to make a living. He has worked as a dishwasher, a shoes salesman, a driver, a security guard, a bouncer, an escort driver, a mental institution orderly, a file clerk, a shipping clerk, and corporate trainer. He lives in Salt Lake City with his cat Mr. Futzwhittle.
Archived at http://girlswithinsurance.com/index.php/poetry/poetry/117-cl-0110-life and shortlinked at http://frsh.in/3q
