Sugar Rush

Sugar Rush

by Emma Bishop


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.