The peach

He cut through suddenly. The peach bright in its meat. 
The evening cool on its hinges – autumn of the trees 
& in the windows a brown tuft of light. 

A largish moth had bothered my mouth at the very moment 
a dry heave had left his – and I flicked at the 
leather of its wings. A fur thorax. A long genital. 

The gash made a thick path of bleeding to the linoleum floor. 
For a second I said suck it. And reached for a dishcloth to wrap 
the flesh between his index and thumb. 

He foamed the word Help. The pink nook of his mouth – 
internal & humid. The moth’s slow drawl. I am no medic 
and so peeped at the thrill. 



Sonja Yelich lives in Devonport, Auckland.  Her latest poetry book is get some(Auckland UP, 2008). She held the Buddle Findlay Sargeson Fellowship from January – June 2010.