“Fall Jewels” by Autumn Moss

I curl and twist my feet
Balancing on my retracted toes
The straw-like grass of fall scratches into my deeply callused but still too-sensitive skin
Scar tissue stretches against the back of my fingers and wrist as i stretch out my hand
Years old and soft as the thin aged skin on my granny’s face
Easy to bruise as a ripe nectarine mid-fall from the youthful tree
The blemish leaking hot humid sticky juices
A smell that lingers
But it’s autumn now
Harvest is just a term for an extinction rebellion crisis so violent it feeds a population
I collect the gaudy Ruby, Indigo, Sunrise, Golden
Perfectly plump mouth-sized
Cherry Tomatoes
Most don’t reach the cold silver kitchen bowl
I stand wrapping the plant around my face and shoulders
Gently pushing each one between my lips
In the half an instant when my painfully straightened teeth pierce them
A burst