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I once held a lemon drop
in my mouth
for forty-eight minutes,
charily resisting the temptation
to shatter it and release
the yellow splash of taste;

today we nestled
on your porch couch,
sunframed,
prolonging the autumn afternoon,
allowing it to retreat
drop by drop.

 

by Kaye Don Young


This poem first ran in the Jan/Feb 2006 edition of Grub Street Grackle. It appears here online for the first time.

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