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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