Look Through

Original source material

Blood Oranges

You knew where I was.

Was there a time when you couldn’t find me?

Maybe once,

but I was there, you just forgot.

Now you never look.

I went back before I came home.

I was desperate to set foot again in the same places.

Hoping to break the drought, I found only myself,

dragging my heart behind me…..

(the square of red architecture

looking at me in reprimand, like the cyprus trees that time)

—-getting dust and gravel and grit into it.

Split open like a blood orange,

juice drips unti it’s dry

Blood oranges everwhere now.

Floating in gaudy cocktails, cut open on market stalls mocking-red…

(they join the red buildings, the cyprus trees)

—-red and bitter inside.

When I walk into the afternoon I share the streets with the rotting fruit.

Just me and the blood oranges.


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This entry was posted on July 9, 2012 by in Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , .

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Copyright: Elizabeth Watkin

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