Danielle DeTiberus

December 21, 2018 DeTiberus Danielle


Plums to the Garden of Eden. Their flesh
so like the tart, meaty flesh of us.
Apples to the Earth, the crunch and rubbing
clean of fuzzy teeth, the one sharp taste

that got us all into trouble.
Oranges to the sky, mottled rinds filled
with eleven crescent moons cloistered
neatly in an orb.

To hell with the savory.
I want fruit, delicate meat ripened
to protect seeds and stones to create more
sweet fruit. Beautiful grasp toward

survival. The cracked pink inside
a peach cradles the hard pit,
an oval starburst— two hands almost
in prayer. Seeds with faith travel

on the wind. Some go ballistic and burst.
But I want the raspberry, blackberry,
strawberry— the flesh that needs a beating
heart, a pile of shit to spring up from.

Danielle DeTiberus teaches creative writing at the Charleston School of the Arts. Her work has appeared in Best American Poetry 2015, The Missouri Review, RattleRiver StyxThe Southeast ReviewSpoon River Poetry Review, Waxwing and elsewhere. She received a poetry fellowship from the South Carolina Academy of Authors in 2016, and currently serves as the Program Chair for the Poetry Society of South Carolina. More of her work can be found at www.danielledetiberus.com.