Poetry
Red Acidic Lips
A poem.

The age-old story goes that immature fruit falls before ripening. Rinds split, navels splinter. The youth, only half-cooked, half-baked, ready for its very own bildungsroman. And the story goes that falling fruit attracts fruit flies who wait for the fall-off, for the moist, effervescent sugars to braise and ferment like a fine wine. Like birds, it must take the leap and learn to fly. The young citrus tree has already let its child go. Ripe, mature, ready, aged, conditioned, finished, full. Ready for reaping. Ripe, red acidic lips.
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