Fruit Mouth

Heather Palmer



I put the chocolate in my mouth, I pouted.

The bar was thin, it cracked. My tongue pushed against the roof.

You know how you feel about the color brown. How you assessed it against blue.

We’ve referred to that in that past. Who’s we? Whose we?

See the brown I know dissolves between my teeth.

I had a teacher tell me once I was obsessed with food. She asked if I knew.

You mean how I eat everything?

Is what I meant to answer. But, here we are. I see you all the time [inside and

outside my mouth].


Curry is the color of orange, of the wooden floor in my room wall to wall. With socks

I soak curry: Floor to floor I slide with the boards. Only, I say along the way, curry

makes me clean.  


You are quite the pear. Sure I knew you would let me run around with my hands

mimicking mosquito wings. So many itches. So much fruit. Oh my skin is red. I bit

myself. I itched it. Why did you let me run around like that for you for a piece of

fruit? Oh my love is a swarm. We taste sugar and sting.

Heather Palmer has written The Diamond of Adversity, Complements of Us, Charlie’s Train, and Mere Tragedies, and has published in numerous journals and magazines. She lives in the New York City area and teaches second and third grade.