Reaching, stretching those supple summer muscles
designed by long, generous hours in the sun.
Into the nest of fluttering leaves,
you pull down a fruit, a small sun
so perfect in your hand it stings me.
I’m reminded of the myth, and the hero
who does not think twice about taking
what and who it is he wants.
How it must surely cause a heart to molder
to be so venerated and so flawed,
to be so brutal and so memorialized.
How saccharine, this moment,
how gentle the gasping breeze.
How soft as early morning light it is for us
to stand here in the shade and think nothing
of journeys or grandiose tasks,
other than cutting the supple flesh,
spitting out the stony seeds,
and reaching, stretching upwards
for another one.
Ariel Moniz
Ariel K. Moniz (she/her) is a queer Black poetess and Hawaii local. She is the winner of the 2016 Droste Poetry Award and a Best of the Net nominee. Her writing has found homes with Blood Bath Literary Zine, Nymphs Publications, The Centifictionist, and Sunday Mornings at the River Press, among others. She is a co-founder of The Hyacinth Review. You can find her on her website at kissoftheseventhstar.home.blog, on Twitter @kissthe7thstar, on Instagram @kiss.of.the.seventh.star, or staring out to sea.