|
Oranges
morning lifts to the smell
of oranges
he enters her eyes, a
stranger, waving away
her dreams, which are thick and rough-skinned as the
carpet beneath her soles
she is getting up,
clinging to the up
because down
is a quiet fruit that she'd
rather not peel
alone
Feverish
I have a vague interest in devouring
the disintegrating slice of day
in painting a couple kettles black
like the embarrased smears of
midnight on my sleeve
keep
fixed holograms of my eyes
in mind, like the edge of elms
a meniscus of fire on the horizon
the skies are freckled with western dusk
Blue
the two meet in the afternoon, impromptu
just like that, she pulls out the chair for him,
setting tradition ablaze. they exchange words
that don't need coaxing because the dialogue
just comes. every writer's dream. she
lets on that she can't pay the rent. not looking
for sympathy, just as a matter of fact like
the ice cubes in her lemoned water. he
views the world is becoming loose, science
and people tugging at its seams. not forcing
his opinion, just letting it roll off his tongue,
clear, and re-crosses his long legs.
they do agree, though, that
everything corrupt and corporate
takes on a particular shade of blue. he grins-
could be as aquamarine as your coat, or
darker, like my veined eyelids in the morning.
could be, she says, serious.
when the sky seeps back into its
fraying edges, they get up, make their
way around the town. pointing out neon
street signs, the closing cafes. not with their
fingers but with the yoga of their bodies, a
hand slipping into pocket, the brush of eyes.
they head back to his apartment at some
point, check the clock before sitting down.
twelve-thirty, she sighs.
and they drink coffee- rebels to empty bodies
tangled in beds, legs blue-
until cars start in the morning.
Tessa Zeng is a junior at Thomas Jefferson HSST in Alexandria, VA, where she is
poetry editor for the literary magazine. Her poems have appeared in the New Moon Magazine for Girls,
Surrounded Magazine, Coffee House Press (online), and will appear in Bear Creek Haiku.
Email: Tessa Zeng
Return to Table of Contents
|