I had no need for the peaches.
Alas, they ripened regardless-
sunset-speckled and irresistible-
in droves, like a mad colony.
I took one, tantalized, tired,
and felt the teasing rednesses ignite-
nuclear sweetness, poison steeped in dew,
death, the alluring scent of the end.
I waited under the peach tree
and wondered what it was all for:
the bumblebee, the coffin sky,
the misery, the war.