The Mother Tree Is Orange Today

Fever Dream

Last night I dreamt about love at first sight
with an orange tree.

There was some sort of scuffle going on
could’ve been a riot, maybe a war

but we saw each other from across the yard
and everything went quiet and slow. 

I was tugged toward it
on a fragrant rope, standing there against the wall.

I needed to be near it
to get my hands on gleaming skin, my face in verdant hair. 

I woke up then, though, thirsty
with one ripe orange in the bowl, like a note left on the nightstand.

---

The Mother Tree Is Orange Today

The Mother Tree Is Orange Today

There is no orange 
here
only tin-type-gray till May
except for this ceramic plaque on my wall
that used to hang beside my grandmother’s bathroom sink.

Painted, a blue room
a round woman - lounging. 

Most times it’s the shapes that strike me
not sorry to be big, askew
but lately, all I see is orange
in four places.

Her hair, the fruit bowl, the cat, curled
on the rug
and the implied orange, burning
between her huge, peach-skinned thighs.

I am jealous. 
No part of me is the color of fruit.
I have no fruit near me, 
but my mother
has an orange tree in her yard
has baskets of oranges, has oranges in her mouth,

so in my mouth. 

So much we inherit we didn’t ask for. 
This
I am asking -
am I still blessable 
with these?