cut in half in a ceramic bowl, the edge of the spoon carves out the meat from the middle, sawing at the membrane that encases the pulp. I make my round with the first half and squeeze the weathered peel until a small pool forms at the bottom of my bowl. I move on. the second half bathes in the remnants of its brother, performing the ritual once more. as I finish, I place my citrus carcasses next to the bowl on the tablecloth. I bring the basin to my lips and make a face at the taste, revisiting the six-year-old girl, who desperately wanted to like the flavor.
grapefruit sacrifice
More by crisscross
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belly buttons and beating hearts
I clung to my baby blanket that wrapped around my limbs. my limbs, small and swollen, cushioned by my mother's organs. I was warm, I clung to the insulation of two beating hearts.
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Confession
the contents of the atlantic
are tucked behind my ear.
the other isles have oozed into my hair
parasitcally working their way down my throat
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Instructions on How To Lie
Disregard the misconceptions of hostility in the act of lying. It is just a mechanism brought to us first by Darwin. A bird nips at the soil, her beak raw from the tragic repetition of giving and giving.
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