Thursday, 13 April 2017

2017.13 - Amber

You take my flesh in hand and start to score
You press with gentle force to mark a seam
You know the path, you’ve traced its route before
This armour guards a softness, lush as dreams.

This task takes patience, time, and outright skill
First layer gone and now the harder part
A thin, tight membrane keeps you from your fill,
So lift the bitter, taste my sweeter heart.

The air sings, tart-sweet, beckoning your tongue;
And busy fingers blush, juice running free,
Impediments are done, the feast’s begun,
My core surrendered, you devouring me.

The fresh scent lingers, memories kept real;
Ripe flesh is worth the challenge of the peel.


It’s NaPoWriMo, which means sonnet-time. And I asked my partner for a prompt, and got “orange peel” - so we can blame whoever gave my partner’s group that for an improv prompt.

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