The Find

By Sandra Irwin

At the farmers’ market

I discover an apricot

left on the tree long enough

to ripen fully in sunlight

and spring rain. It submits

to my squeeze. Never having been

unduly contained, its golden

amber skin and dense flesh

aren’t standoffish and frigid,

but soft, pliant, cooperative.

 

Juice dribbling, I remember

summer on the ranch,

afternoons extending tendrils

like desert mirages

wavering to the horizon,

while I lay spread-eagled

on sun-hot rocks, apricots

in both hand and mouth.

I sucked them full force,

blew the excess to the ducks

courting in the pond below,

sighed with the languorous whispers

from the orchard behind,

harkened as my organs swelled,

content in the certainty

that truth existed

and could be found.

 

Today’s apricot

was in a pile under a tent

pitched on asphalt. What else then,

so long lamented,

might yet be out there,

waiting, somewhere?

 

___

Sandra Irwin holds an A.B. in English from Vassar College, a J.D. from the University of San Diego, and she is a 2009 graduate of the Master of Professional Writing Program at the University of Southern California. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in Cold Mountain ReviewThe Summerset Review, decomPanderbo.comSleet MagazineShot Glass Journal, and numerous other literary publications.


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