Stephanie Yin

I inhale you

as citrus pustules split,

I taste you in the air

citrus Sunkist mist.

Jewels of the sun,

colored to strike

oval in shape,

the bitter blades bite.

Skin like leather,

pockmarked by pores

acidic pulp,

sticky and sour.

I open you up with my teeth,

you pour forth, unleashed.

I clench my jaw, so sour