Cherry-picker

It is not
Slam-bam-over quickly-damn,
This sly business
Of breaking barriers.

This process is hampered
By a hymen of tension.
It is full of innocence
And dumbass expectations.

It is fraught with fear
And hidden fumbling
In dark, cold places

Where parents
Have no visibility,
Where even God
Is only welcome
At the climax.

Popping a cherry
Is no simple matter
of putting hard
White teeth
Against succulence
Of round red fruit

And

Applying pressure
Until something
Breaks,
Spills out,
Pops in the mouth
And lands
With a tang
On the tongue

Or

Until only
Spat-out
Remnants
Remain.

Cherry-pickers
(And poppers)
Must abide
By rituals
Older than speech.

Seduction is all part
Of making sure the
Fruit falls ripe into
You and your eager hands.

Your mouth can work wonders
In silence or in sound.
Hum upon the skin
Of your intended,
Make it sing.

Kisses placed
In the proper
Arcane order
Can open
A willing portal
To let you in.

Touching the right parts
Helps make a good start.

Feel the smooth skin
With your fingers, gently.
Gently, gently inhale
The scent of youth,
The spice of this other life
And let the feelings sink
Deep, marking you indelibly
As you will mark the other.

All must be ready,
All must be right.

Savor the moment
You do break through:

Taste its tang
With closed eyes
As your limbs relax in bliss
Carried from tastebuds
To your soul-core.

This is the bittersweet flavor
Of a final farewell; It is
The savory welcome of a first hello.

Feel the sweat drizzling your skin
With a benediction of the body.
This is the rain that brings
New life and the cut that flowers hope.

Forget for now
That flowers die
And cuts grow scars.

Breathe in that elusive scent:
Grass breaking under
The fleet-footed leavetaking
Of childhood, the incense
Of initiation into a new phase.
The musky odor of a new woman or man.

See the metamorphasis, the subtle changes:
A worldlier smile, that stronger gait,
The first glaze of pleasure in the eyes
And the soft "O" of a mouth calling out
Your name as a mantra,
As a prayer, as a lifeline.

Once spent,
You will revere the silence
That comes with change
As you stare at the outlines
Of fruit in a basket

On the table
Beyond the bed.