Once you've tasted pineapple,
you'll never want another fruit.
- Congolese proverb
How can I say my
lover touches my body, making it
something not just mine?
How can he do that,
map this flesh
to where I've never been?
How can he
give it life with memories
older than me?
How to explain the cobalt charge that
snaps my spine off the ground when he
sinks into my honeyed folds?
How he
undoes me with his pungency,
making sure I can never
love another?
Maybe it's English that
fails me. Maybe
Swahili is better, where
just the word "pineapple"
says the sticky sweet cane of good hurt
only your lover
can give you.
Rebecca Jung received a B.A. in art history from Kent State
University, as well as a B.A. in creative writing from the
University of Pittsburgh. Her poetry and short stories have
been published in The Pennsylvania Review, Wazee Journal,
The Pittsburgh Quarterly, The
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Impetus, CC&D, The Festival of
Women's Voices Anthology as well as other
anthologies, and a chapbook titled The Relic Maker. She
works as a technical and scientific writer and editor in
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She is a member of Erotic
Authors Association (EAA).
