Cherry Boys

by austin crowley

There was a hand-hold,

a kind of failed handshake, that led

to blushing. Embarrassing, to blush.

To pluck a bushel of cherries; their sweat-

caked palms wiped lips. Red, blood, teeth

red with blood; fists and teeth eating

cherries; embarrassed to blush because

he blushed at him and they were

boys. He bled cherries from his palms,

cold, red with blood and skin.

He gripped and twisted the cherries

open until they blushed

all over his lips and cheeks. He bent

his wrists to cup the fruit. Thorned

and maimed, he bruised

evil red; their eyes stemmed

together blood-shot,

stone-pitted. He and him

became fists; they flew

and cherried their cheeks,

teeth and pits blemished

the ground. Their pulped lips

got lost in the orchard,

their split hands came up empty.