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| Issue 12: | March 2022 |
| Poem: | 65 words |
By Gary Grossman
Cherry Bombs
Such small worlds, one inch, maybe two, red as a tiny Mars or yellow; a flaring sun. My taste buds explode, tartness painting a startled tongue, fleshy pulp, sour and sweet rides an umami wave plunging down my throat. I am eating summer, offspring of a green boned vine. Luscious orbs, popping, until my stomach gurgles no more—no more—no more tomatoes.
Gary Grossman
has been writing poetry for 30 years. His poems may be found, or are forthcoming, in 21 different reviews, most recently: Verse-Virtual, Poetry Life and Times, Black Poppy Review, Trouvaille Review, and Last Stanza Poetry Review. His writing credits include ten years as a columnist for American Angler Magazine. Hobbies include running, music, fishing, gardening, and cooking.
Bio and writing at, respectively:
www.garygrossman.net and
https://garydavidgrossman.medium.com/
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