Breakfast
It's been a busy week, but I finally can take my time a bit.
Eating an Orange
It's a miracle to taste sunlight and soil.
It's bitter, like unsweetened medicine,
sour like long-expired milk,
rough like grains of sand pressed in a palm.
I can feel rainwater and aquifer
mingle with saliva
drip from my chin,
and fall to the floor.
The film of formless molecules,
nutrients from successive deaths,
successive successions
from moss to weed to tree to crop
coats the roof of my mouth
and strings itself through my teeth.
I taste breath
compounded into sugar, sweet breath.
Eating an Orange
It's a miracle to taste sunlight and soil.
It's bitter, like unsweetened medicine,
sour like long-expired milk,
rough like grains of sand pressed in a palm.
I can feel rainwater and aquifer
mingle with saliva
drip from my chin,
and fall to the floor.
The film of formless molecules,
nutrients from successive deaths,
successive successions
from moss to weed to tree to crop
coats the roof of my mouth
and strings itself through my teeth.
I taste breath
compounded into sugar, sweet breath.