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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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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metaphor
I have this image of you holding a bloody heart, kind of sunken. When this girl needed help the most you tore out your heart to give it to her but her body rejected it and attacked it. It's a natural reaction, like allergies.
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