When tomato was a fruit – a legend

No, not those flimflam supermarket
cellophane-wrapped, tough-skinned
monstrosities, impostors posturing,
impersonating tomatoes!
They could never pass for fruit,
barely entitled to the label of produce,
lacking scent, flavor, juice and pulp.
When tomato was a fruit, long ago,
(or still, sometimes, far away)
in sundrenched buggy fields, buzzing
with stinkbugs, studded with fruitworms,
the furry leaves smelled spicy,
the scent rising with the day’s heat,
overpowering the rich, damp soil.
Vermillion fruit rested heavy in your palm,
ready to drop from the stem with a slight
twist, the vine springing back up,
released from the weight of nectar.
Dust it on your sleeve, lean over
and take a bite of long, childhood summers,
juice and memories running down your chin.

~~~
After writing my watermelon poem for the dVerse prompt, I began thinking of other summer delicacies.
The photo shows how my husband makes the most of tomatoes from the store.

9 comments

  1. No that’s what I’m talking about! A multi-sensory gorgeous description, Bilocalalia. You’ve totally won me over, and you definitely have a way with those killer last lines! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Another delicious, juicy poem, Denise! I know what you mean about homegrown tomatoes. My daughter grows her own and they are delicious. I tried growing some last year, but they didn’t do so well. I love these evocative lines, in which I could smell tomato plants:
    ‘the furry leaves smelled spicy,
    the scent rising with the day’s heat,
    overpowering the rich, damp soil’
    and I felt the tomato in:
    ‘ready to drop from the stem with a slight
    twist, the vine springing back up,
    released from the weight of nectar.’

    Liked by 1 person

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