Cherry Bombs

Such small worlds,
one inch, maybe two,
red as a tiny Mars
or yellow; a flaring sun.

My taste buds explode,
tartness painting a
startled tongue, fleshy
pulp, sour and sweet

rides an umami wave
plunging down my throat.
I am eating summer,
offspring of a green

boned vine. Luscious orbs,
popping, until my stomach
gurgles no more — -no
more — no more tomatoes.

MacQueens Quinterly January 2022