What happened, happened once. So now it’s best
in memory — an orange he sliced: the skin
unbroken, then the knife, the chilled
wedge lifted to my mouth, his mouth, the thin
membrane between us, the exquisite orange,
tongue, orange, my nakedness and his…
Beside the stove we ate an orange.
And there were purple flowers on the table.
And we still had hours.
— kim addonizio
the flame of the gods’
palette my madness
goes off singing towards
of nights and of roots
the fabulous rumps
of hills smeared with the rouge
Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.
— Jhumpa Lahiri, Interpreter of Maladies
Images in dreams
are hazy and ambiguous,
and can generally be explained
in many different ways.
Reality means reality:
that’s a tougher nut to crack.
— wisława szymborska
Coming home with red wine cheeks and buzzing with laughter and stories, I unlock the door on a dark house and a hungry cat and, oh god, I ache for your muddy shoes.
Your absence has grown
to the size of a grapefruit
floating beneath my skin
irreversible, neither self nor
other but an organ or a thought
without a home, a question
that won’t fit and can never be
answered or forgiven.
— Laurie Block