By: Li-Young Lee, 1957
From Blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the end of the road where we turned toward
the signs painted peaches
from laden boughs, from hands
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
no only form the skin but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death where nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy, to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
Bogotá
Septiembre 7, 2020
10:00 pm
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