i wish you had taken more photos of me
Do you remember when we drove for hours, just to
Find somewhere to kiss, and
We took a sharp left where we would always go
Straight, and down this winding road we found quiet.
We found a farm, with a peacock standing angrily in the front garden
Angry about us kissing in your red car in his front garden
And we paid him no mind,
Until the sun came out from behind the clouds
And we swung open your car’s big metal arms
And chased him
Into the swinging grass.
Do you remember you took that photo of me
On your half-broken film camera and
I remember thinking, I wished you would take more photos of me.
Did you just not think of it, or was seeing me in front of you
Enough, but that day you took photos of me
Staring into the greying sky
And we stood together
Until the man who owned the farm came out onto his front porch
And began to chase us, like
The peacock.
And so we piled in your car, breathless
And do you remember we took a sharp right where we would never
Turn at all
And we laughed and laughed
At the peacock in our rearview mirror.
the right way to peel a clementine
a thumb, digging into thick orange skin
cheeks hot from sitting on the front step, sun emerging.
i am sure to peel in one piece, not multiple,
removing carefully the strings that hang off the edges like a frayed couch,
heavily loved.
my dad taught me when I was younger
hold up the slices to the light to check for seeds
rumor has it, if you swallow enough clementine seeds
your skin will turn rough and thick
and someone will have to peel you open, too.
i wonder if you held me up to the light
would you see my most unfavorable parts?
pale bones
and waiting womb,
strings and peels and compostable flesh
that will help other fruit ripen
and grow hands that will learn: