I don’t understand why peaches
Get the honor of being a stone fruit.
It’s not like any other
Fruit has ever offered up
Reciprocation, and, in fact,
I am always the one
To split the skin, to dig
Through white flesh and
Suck at the soft bits.
I remember fuzz collapsing
Under my summer-salted
Lips. I remember tiring
Of the taste, and still
Loving juice down my chin.
Charlotte Van Schaack (they/she) is a queer poet who was raised in North Carolina but now resides in Washington, DC. Their work often explores the relationship between identity, memory, and landscape. Charlotte is a creative nonfiction associate editor at JMWW and literary artist fellow at Washington Writers' Publishing House. Find her work in WWPH Writes, Dialogist, and Door Is A Jar. @cvanschaack.writes on Instagram.
