Blood Oranges
the flesh of the orange is a sunrise
in my mouth
it tastes like neruda's words
falling from
trees like dreams
the girl cutting vegetables
has the face of
sunrise
even in the dead of
winter
i taste flesh and i taste
daylight
i taste fire like jazz from
this fruit
lingering like
dreams
On Reading Brautigan
Like a lonely ruby slipper
In search of its mate, a melody lingers
Still, inside me; if I had
A piano, I would play the story of you.
Hearing all of your tones, colors and nuances.
Instead, I hear your song, walking in the breeze
Like a breath from within, you are
The smoke that lingers, giving birth
Only to dreams; I clutch the ruby slipper
Next to my heart, the song lingers
Erren Geraud Kelly is a two-time Pushcart nominated poet from Boston, has been writing for 28 years and has over 300 publications in print and online.
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