Still Life With Oranges
Robert Carlson / pastel
I will take your orange from the table
round fruit removed from pale yellow surface
I’ll take the one on the left
the single one that doesn’t mingle
doesn’t jostle or crowd together
the one apart
as I am apart
I’ll take it as the amber light
reflected in the deep night sky
of the cobalt pitcher fades
one light gone out
not even a nova just quietly fading
I will roll it on my skin
to scent myself in its sweetness
the scent of a hot languid land
in this New England winter I will
dream of blue seas
and palm trees that curve along
the sides of my vision
I’ll take a bite of bitterness
ripping into the thick skin
and peeling away the pitted surface to
the milkywhite slip
like the soft washed muslin that
lies next to my skin
an inner skin
that surrounds the sweetest juice
the captured fountain of the sun
I’ll separate the mooncurved slippers
filled with nectar
hold them out for you to drink
a juice of sunlight and longing
and I too will drink
of this one orange
separated from the rest
an offering for us to share.
– eve rifkah