Orange

The grey insists
the orange persists

even in the impermanence
bold, daring, open
to the possibility of being
seen

such names
rib cracking
crush
under the gaseous gauze
of hot sweet
summer afternoon

The mango weasel
baptized
another
tangerine

she
now frolics
on top of a volcano
in a rented shanty 
filled with confusion.

tangerine
skin gaping and pocked
remains sticky
waiting to be 
plucked
sucked
savored
in the solitary city

She asks -

Am I any less sweet
for sitting on the sill
seeking stillness
in the scrum of come uppers
and stagnant stragglers 
crowding the concrete
sidewalk 
below

There is more to me

beneath
this rippled whitening surface
is pockets plush
with tart sweet 
juice bursting 
the seams

 the cruel late afternoon
sun 
shines
on 
us 
all

The grey insists
the orange persists

even in the impermanence
bold, daring, open
to the possibility of being
seen

OctPoWriMo 2018  Day 3