Lemon Dropped
You came to me like a kid
in a candy store, picking
out your favorite treats.
I remember sitting on a shelf,
your eyes lighting up and reflecting
the colorful packaging – tickled pink.
Me, nestled next to the chocolates,
but I was a sucker
for you, hanging between your cherry lips
and entranced by green apple eyes
with a caramel center.
It didn’t take long for me
to stick to your gums, rotting
your perfect smile.
But at the same time, you savored me,
high on sugared desire.
I was sweet until the very last bit,
until your tongue dissolved me
until I was just a paper stick
that came apart with just a bit of saliva.
Until there was nothing left.
I know I caused your sugar crash,
but you should have known
that candy sticks to your skin
and I glued us together
so you’d never quite swallow me,
never quite get rid of me,
never quite move on.
I’ll live in your throat forever,
jagged edges cutting your esophagus
until you can’t breathe,
can’t speak,
can’t eat.

Kalina Smith (she/her) is a Pushcart Prize and Best Poet of Arkansas nominee. She teaches high school English, where she spends her days nurturing young storytellers and navigating the emotional labor of the classroom. Her work has appeared in Nebo, The Ignatian, FLARE: The Flagler Review, ONE ART: A Journal of Poetry, Tulsa Review, and many others, with work forthcoming in Arkansas Review and Dandy. She served as the poetry editor for Shadowplay during the Spring of 2025. Her first chapbook, Scorpio Season, was published by Kelsay Books. You can find her on Instagram @kalinasmithpoetry.
