| Reflecting on a Lemon
Rigid and bump-ridden, the casing relents Like the sodden banks of the flooding Mississippi, Belching acidic water that Writhes over the crevices of an outstretched palm, Drips from fingertips polished in dusk. Mirrored blue skies are stung by Saltwater dew that mingles with tart spray As it creeps over the deep crest of my lips. I cannot help but lash into Its pasty flesh with my restless tongue, Bitter as the flayed skin of a scorned lover. I feel my eyes crinkle in bizarre satisfaction From veins pierced with defensive teeth. The effulgent body lies in my palm, Ripped and torn asunder, Oozing a deceivingly sweet stench. I sit in awe wondering: How can one find Happiness in the sourness Of life and lemons? |