Sugar Rush
Sugar Rush
by Emma Bishop
18-21
Eating a plum,
under the summer sun,
fingernails scratch squeaky skin,
releasing a flood of sweet pulp & juice,
painting my face,
my arms, my hands
stained by sugar
put my dirty shirt in the laundry
and it glows pink,
a sunset illuminates the fabric,
the tart aroma
of my plum,
my sweet, sweet dream.
Summer is a standstill,
the world whispering
you’ve done enough,
you can relax.
so I shake the cherry tree,
watch red bombs fail to hang on.
one by one,
they fall into my palms.
I ascend into the cradle of branches,
suck their pink flesh,
and spit pits on the lawn.
Mango tree,
laden with fruit.
leaves brush my hand
with delicate fingers,
sheltering treasure.
When they mature into golden yellow hues,
capsules of sunlight,
I will pick them,
and drown myself in the sticky balm
I’ll get every last bit off their husky pits
but I won’t be able to pick them all in time
so i’ll sit and watch
as they fall to the ground and rot.