Strawberry Jam

The first boy I loved
spread my heart
like strawberry jam
over toast one morning
and ate it for breakfast.

But it grew back
as a bold apple.
Smooth, waxy pulse.
A palm full.

The man who loves me now
doesn’t like apples,
couldn’t taste it
even if he tried.

Meghan Bliss is a writer & editor from coastal North Carolina. Her work has appeared in Rust + Moth, Southern Women’s Review, the Charlotte Writers’ Club anthology, A Poetry Congeries, and What the Fiction. Her first chapbook, The Little Universe, was published by Dancing Girl Press this spring.

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1 Response to Strawberry Jam

  1. Debbie Guzzi says:

    Ahh yes what a grand use of euphemisms!

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