My Heart Is A Cherry Tomato

Poetry
Written By Yetta Rose Stein

I run, both

towards and away. 

On my best day, towards. 

Less than best, 

my heart still 

isn’t clay. 

My heart, textured 

by an imprint 

of my dog’s nose, 

smaller than my right eye,

bright orange. 

Could grow in a swamp

given… what? Sunlight?

Moonlight? 

Tomatoes need

the moon too. I’m getting carried

away. Or: carry me and my tomato 

heart away so I don’t have to run. 


One day, I’ll feed

my cherry-heart-tomato to a 

fawn who will wander 

through the gate I forgot 

to latch. Subliminal messaging: 

visitors welcome. I’ll take

my heart in the palm of my right hand

and feel 

the fawn’s tongue against my skin. 

My heart will taste like sweet 

dirt, blood, dog spit, 

skin will taste like salt

and age. The fawn will 

eat my heart out 

of my hand. I’ll stop running. 

The fawn will leave. The fawn?

Will keep walking: 

towards. Away.

Yetta Rose Stein

YETTA ROSE STEIN reads and writes in Livingston, Montana. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Adelaide Literary Magazine, Another Chicago Magazine, Tupelo Quarterly, and elsewhere. She is a founding member of the Mug Club, is on the board of Montana's Intermountain Opera, and is the Associate Poetry Editor for Hunger Mountain Review. She is a graduate of Hellgate High School and an MFA candidate at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. She likes pomegranates, kissing her friends, and water.

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