passager
i think it was an orange She took of its fruit and ate and also gave some to her husband. genesis
It is all belly – dimpled, pregnant, its skin oily to the touch, bitter to the taste. It speaks in tongues, gives a small zesty gasp as you peel off its clothes. It is Persian, whirls, ecstatic, splits into two perfect halves, the membraned sections are zealots of sweetness. Press the globules against your tongue and your mouth is born again. Tuck the moist peelings in your pocket. Your hands, those evangelists, will smell like incense. Sharron Singleton
62