every skin is bitter
once you bite into it.
this was once a wisdom
of my mother’s
also, that love is hard
and you can be broken upon it.

i grew into these thoughts
for my mother
so she would finally
have something to give

but when we ate grapes
that one slippery night
discovering the sweetness enclosed
and the softness
that i could slip silently into
i found you not so bitter
and could see no edges to you

thinking of my mother
i smiled
and let you kiss me