Thursday, March 26, 2020

Memory of Fruit


7 comments:

  1. at 12 by our new home
    in La Verne the
    orange grove
    became a refuge
    a place to wander

    escape from reality
    traverse the
    rows
    pluck an orange
    litter the peels as I walk

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  2. This arbor ladder
    Stairway to a girlhood bond
    That went bananas

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  3. “Kentucky Mangos”

    My grandmother grew mangos out back, by the kitchen.

    She sliced on sandwiches with tomato and mayonnaise.

    Grandpa liked them roasted, thin rubbery skins charred and blistered.

    I liked them sweet and red, still warm from the sun.


    I don’t know how old I was when I learned that these were not mangos the way the rest of the world knows mangos, but bell peppers.

    It was also the day I came to understand that the south really is a different kind of place.

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