Apricot trees exist, apricot trees exist
we eat their kin, stone stratified and wrapped
in sunrise, we exist as amber
juice escapes down our chin in streams
fruity spit-up, sticky face looking for the moment
a branch chose to split, unceremoniously
we drop her child’s fleshy core with one hand,
on the ground, pitted bare against the sun, everything
born sweet and quiet is torn between molars
obliterated by something bigger, something
hungry whose tongue, without instruction,
carefully circles and separates from the swallowed
the seed, dropped with one hand, destiny
spewed in amniotic amber, stringy and
raw and
pitted
bare against the sun.