I never meant to hurt you
When I plucked you from the branch,
When I peeled you with my nails.
A tangerine would have tasted
No sweeter than the luck puckering
Our lips. I never meant to pick you
Prior your prime, but upon my fingers
You felt fresh and who could blame
A novice eye for trying. Don’t trust me
When I tell you I’m sorry, darling,
Now that you finally see how easy
Green-picking can be. Now that you know
How slow the heart-fruit grows.