lemon boy

i once met a boy
who ate lemons raw,
grew up with yellow slices tucked
between his lips
so now kissing him
is all summertime and sunshine
reminding me of climbing my great aunt’s lemon tree,
pricking my fingers on the spines,
as i twisted and pulled each lemon
down for dinner and pies
and running down south white street
where my mother once lived,
hair slicked back with lemon juice to lighten it
while chasing the early evening’s first fireflies,
waiting for my grandmother’s lemon bars
to cool on the counter
so we could sprinkle on the powdered sugar,
while hummingbirds rested on my fingers
to drink from the sugar water feeder in the southern california hills
all sour things made sweet,
hard made soft

Emily Ramser is a poet and educator in Denton, Texas where they co-create and collaborate with Spiderweb Salon. They recently documenting the history of blackout poetry at https://www.thehistoryofblackoutpoetry.org. They also make blackout poems out of people's Tinder bios on Instagram at @tinderblackouts