Black Nectar

I start as a cherry
on a green bush
in Columbia. Sweet, juicy
and red under the hydrogen
and helium sun.

Then like a birth
9 months later,
I’m plucked, roasted,
beat down,
packed, and sent away.

My bits
as fine as coke powder
intermingle with thousands
others in a basket and scorched
with boiling water

Just so you can stay awake through rush hour.
Just so you can have endorphins course
through your body as you read your poems.

And I’m done with– discarded
with banana peels.
I never did see Paris.

***
Wowee, I caught up for the time being. Here is poem 17. I followed the prompt which you can read here if you want. I wasn't going to follow the prompt, but then I looked at the steaming cup of coffee sitting on my desk and the poem naturally came.

I also reached the midpoint of Suburban Vampires. I have the rest of novel sort of planned and I hope that I finish the rough draft this month. It is a little short but that will be remedied when it comes to revisions.