Bosc

I made out with a pear
yesterday.
I used teeth
She didn’t.

The guys at the market
Said
To put her on the shelf until she got

Soft.

So I left her in the dark for a week
In between my
Two cans of black beans and a shriveled-up clove of garlic.
She didn’t appreciate
that.

I couldn't help it though
I wanted her how
I wanted her how I
wonder if the bruised beguile
the bruised.

She tried to tell me something
In the middle of it all.
Something about being
Firm
as I felt her yield
underneath my fingertips.

I didn’t catch it
though.
Could only think about how with every
Second
I had
Less of her.

When we were done
Her fleshy spine drooped in my palm
And I wept.

Lennon Sherburne is a queer and trans journalist, audio producer, and creative living in Washington, D.C. You can find their work on NPR's All Things Considered and Weekend Edition, or buried somewhere in their computer. Sherburne's poetry and photography have appeared in Bullshit Lit and at Rhizome D.C.