Blood Oranges

A poem that I admit is flawed and maybe needs work. But I'm not much of a poet.

You ALWAYS knew where I was.

Was there EVER a time when you couldn't find me?

Maybe once,

but I WAS there, you just forgot.

Now you never even LOOK.

 

I went back before I came home.

I was desperate to set foot again in the same places.

Hoping to break the drought, I found only myself,

dragging my heart behind me.....

 

(the square of red architecture

looking at me in reprimand, like the cyprus trees that time)

 

----getting dust and gravel and grit into it.

 

Split open like a blood orange,

juice drips unti it's dry

Blood oranges everwhere now.

Floating in gaudy cocktails, cut open on market stalls mocking-red...

 

(they join the red buildings, the cyprus trees)

 

----red and bitter inside.

 

When I walk into the afternoon I share the streets with the rotting fruit.

Just me and the blood oranges.

Author's Note

Clearly a partner for some of my stories. I seem to spend a lot of time wondering in streets it seems...

Reviews

[thecoolone52]

your like the o.a.r song........ "Wanderer hes looking for his long lost soul" i liked this writing a bit mind bogling a little confusing for my 5th grade reading level......... but you know it was fun to read.... orginal and crafty