Chris Crittenden does much of his writing in a spruce forest, fifty miles from the nearest traffic light. Moose can get ornery during the rut. Some recent acceptances are from: Phati'tude, Kill Poet, Wild Violet, Hell Gate Review and Vox Humana. He blogs as the volatile Owl Who Laughs and teaches environmental ethics for the University of Maine.
as a youth i snuck
into an orchard,
savored drippy pulp
with messy lips.
citrus suns dangled near
the carefree black hole
of my indulgent wide
mouth.
i dug and taste-strummed
the toothsome sinews,
loving the feel of the spray,
the misting of the pith.
middens grew at my feet,
born of glossy fruit leather,
juice-stained pyramids
ripe with excess--
that brash joy
lovers glean the first time
when they taste each other’s
succulence.