"We hide behind sheets of words and sometimes find comfort on wearing them proudly. I have unbowed my bloody head with the things I have killed and revered what I have immortalized. I will continue to shield, maim, murder, pine, ponder and slave over the very words that force itself out of my body but leave its hand clutched on my still beating heart."

-Darrel Pobre

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Orange Wedges


There is a certain art in breaking
a wedge of orange,
the sudden burst of citrus
the smell, individual pulps 
break their embryonic embrace
as they fan out in clusters
letting seeds fall

Upturned towards the sky
as in an arch, spine curved
like being lifted from a longtime 
of being curled tight in a ball
of dewy leather



No comments:

Post a Comment