Watermelon Surplus (poem)

Dead of summer, I’m aproned and sweating at my seasonal retail job, stacking cucumbers, stocking salads,   slicing potato sacks—golden, red, russet. We get a watermelon surplus—we truss it   all off the truck, extra pallets packed with cardboard bins bursting with fruit. We heave them through backrooms   to the selling floor, all those … Continue reading Watermelon Surplus (poem)