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Kitchen Table, Cezanne What I’d like to be rolling in is fruit, it all so ripe, heaped, unruly that the linens are stem-kicked, tangled. A fat pear peers over a big basket’s brink teetering toward a jug’s O’d mouth. And...what’s that? a nectarine? nears its scandalous plummet, the plump sphere of it pinched safely around its pit. Every juicy orb seems to dream of its own roll and gasp, being lifted finally by paint-smeared hands, bitten before having a chance to bruise. Laurin Becker Macios Laurin Becker Macios's books include Calling Me Home, a Young Adult verse novel forthcoming from Holiday House in 2026, and Somewhere to Go, winner of the 19th annual poetry award from Elixir Press. She lives in Connecticut with her two sons and one delightfully lazy French Bulldog. More at laurinbeckermacios.com.
1 Comment
SJH
8/9/2025 12:05:19 am
You certainly stuck the landing, L. The difference between debating whether to eat a peach (or nectarine) and just sinking one’s teeth right in. (cfcf.—ha!—Rainer Maria’s “The Awful Truth of Loving.”) Kudos.
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November 2025
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