Words

Miyabi Knife with Cut Limes

My lips were aflame with the first bite. I’d sliced into it with such trepidation, the only sharp knife I had. It was a risk, one I was willing to take for the flavour I was about to receive.

The markets had been crowded that morning. As I swatted away the flies, I found the perfect one.

Handing over my hard-earned, I placed to in my tattered conference bag, in amongst the cheese and grapes.

We were home.

I sliced through you, removing your head, then your tough skin. Finally, I made slices and rough quarters.

I took that first bite, and the acid stung. Piercing my lips, the juices drawing blood.

My first pineapple of the summer.

Perfection.

For Kim.

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One Response to “Words”

  1. mmmmmm… pineapple. Nothing beats a fresh one. They taste so different to the canned ones. I so miss them.

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