when I was younger and
my father would peel a mango,
i’d have to leave the
kitchen so i didn’t gag
it seemed so normal for
everyone else
to love it
the revulsion worsened with
age; all of them – the ones
with “flesh”
soft, pulpy
black pips on counters
smudged with sickly-sweet
moisture
i washed everything
it was fruit that was
forbidden, wasn’t it?
not nuts or edible roots
or seeds
i covered myself with weeds
Hayley Gibbons is a wife, mom and English teacher from East London, South Africa. Her poetry has been published in various online journals. She loves listening to Sting, a cup of strong coffee and writing poetry whenever she gets the chance.
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