In the moments before my husband proposed, I spit out a cherry pit
Beautifully oblivious to his intention
In the not too distant past, I ate
dark red cherries with raw-heart pits.
My mother and siblings and I
Had a spitting contest in the driveway.
We torqued our torsos, flung our heads,
Sent pits sailing over the hot cement
They must have made a dotted constellation, those gory cherry pits,
a connect-the-dots map
To a cherry orchard in Colorado,
A man with a cherry-pitted smile