Children have an instinct for sweetness
When young nectarines sprouted
From the young nectarine tree
My goblin sister and I ate them greedily
All of them
The fallen and the barely freed from budding
They knifed our bellies
What’s wrong with them
My mother cried
Meaning us, her children
She was so helpless
We were such shits
Rolling round
Like nectarine pits
Suffering from surfeit
Suffering for sweet