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Remember the tomatoes MAG
I haven’t given up trying to be a strong woman, a really good one even.
But,
when I was a kid,
I was excited about tomatoes,
their unique smell
biting fresh may.
So I collected white flower buds,
and green bulging flesh
with dark sage veins.
My mother scolded me, rightly, for criticizing the tomatoes’ taste as I took a bite,
too soon.
Chewing and spitting,
a deer in the garden.
I hated them: my sour
not-quite-ripe things.
I’m seventeen and remember all that I’ve done wrong.
So ready to stop a man from abusing me,
That I
Pluck unripe tomatoes and criticize
As he’s just trying to grow
It’s hard to love sour
not-quite-ripe things.
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This piece explores the traits that stick with us from childhood to beyond. In this piece, the heroine grapples with her impatience through the symbolic imagery of a tomato.