[PIT]
- [PIT]
Collapsed, apeach orphaned in the grass& sun of late August, stemrotted, flesh festered, Iwitnessedin the well-hollowedbucket beneath myribcage a vacuous, fungus-filled & skunking,the leftoversof garbage cans—What isn'tunholy. Dismemberingone from where it rooted, Isplit the peach at itsseam. If onlysomeone would splinterme. To be ravagedis all I ask for. The fruit, tender& undeserving of fingerscrude as mine, fumedan odor like gasoline.Throata moldy pit, Iswallowed, & ittasted, sluggingdown my sternum,like the salivaof a person like me mustwhen he finally kneelsin the piss-yellowed grass,strained, beyond redemption,broken of anythinghis lungs could give. [End Page 128] Surrenderingpalms, he prays, thisperson, notto be saved, no,never that—no, onlyto endure. [End Page 129]
Jesse DeLong lives in Tuscaloosa. “[Pit]” is from “Screel,” a manuscript he recently finished. Other work can be found at Best New Poets 2011, Mid-American Review, American Letters and Commentary, Indiana Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, and elsewhere. Tearings, and Other Poems, a chapbook, was released by Curly Head Press. [End Page 166]
