domates

Sucking down sun-bred sweet bellies,
as raw as blushing laughter over hot tea.

Plucking this rosy-cheeked,
soft-hearted snack,

stripped the vine of their budding
fruit, too eager and unripe,

but the wash of golden seeds,
that glitter from the core,

muscles release into velvet pulp, and summer,
like the knife, separates the middle.