Orange Rind

By | 15 February 2023

An orange almost stripped
of its skin, I had been
slowly curling the knife
around its flesh, careful
not to dig too deep. Once
the rind was separated, I
plonked it in the plunger
heaping on teaspoons of
coffee, shredded ginger
atop. I gathered this from
my most embattled love
who learned to cook with
mostly medicines. I kept
resisting a quite perpetual
cold, as blossoms outside
turned to foliage. I carry
jumpers, phrases, how to
roll cigarettes, etiquette
from past romances, still
passing them in the street
sometimes, smiling. I stir
honey in the pot of coffee
then pour a cup, don’t check
the time. I stare glazed over
sipping, sip until the cup is
emptied out then go to work

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