100 coconuts 

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One aimed swing of a cleaver and listen to the brown stringy coconut shell cuss and crack down the middle like lightning
The surprising cool sweet water streams from the crevasse
Her strong grip smothers and breaks open the coconut, the blinding white meat making her wince and inhale
100 coconuts and smelling of mild refreshing sweetness
100 coconuts and exhausted, sweat trailing from under her ears, lining her jaw and meeting where her throat sinks and breaths
100 coconuts under flickering green leaves
Brown husk and shell stumbling in a pile, silver blade cleaver’s clever reflections mimicking sunlight

Amanda Woolery