into my bleak early Spring
afternoon
this mist of sticky juice
my normally clogged nose
inundated with bold proof
of lurid promises
from citrus groves
bathed by sunlight
on a foreign soil
while my entire body
sanguinely sings
your praises
and my fingers
continue to peel
away until every morsel
is revealed
and devoured
I bought a bag of blood oranges the other week, and every other day I eat one with my fiancée. The smell and texture is divine.
