Sky Tongued Back with Light

When the sky is tongued back with light, you’ll find me here
                                          in the peach orchard, the most I can muster. Rows & rows

of clustered glow, a slab of thuds, peaches falling to ground, hands, wind.
                                          Sign reads Don’t Bite the Peaches. Teeth last past death

but decay during life. Not here, metal in a bird’s shape
                                          bearing this place’s name to people who learn to say it like a
People on couch
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