Orange- Object Writing- July 15

The ball in my hand is as bright as a setting sun, round and firm with a cool skin. The skin has tiny grooves and indents – like its undergone a series of earthquakes. I take a knife and slide it down one side and the other, the skin pierced into eight quadrants. I could bite into that skin now but the taste would be bitter and I would reel away from it. I slip the knife under one corner and peel back, moist fingers slide over a furry epidermis, a second skin beneath the plastic outside, it’s yellowy white. The skin of other segments drops like used armour in a battle, for now this piece of fruit has surrendered unto me. Now I see the individual segments lying pregnant underneath the second skin, just one swift insertion of my finger and I could cause a rift through the experience of that perfect sphere, those ridges poke out like ribs and I plunge in between them and the orange rips into halves, the stringy white skin still trying to cling. From one of the severed halves I pluck a segment, One single strand of the orange symphony explodes into a sweet melody in my mouth, it sings of high violin notes and soaring soprano. The gates are open and my mouth applauds and screams ‘bravo’ and more and the segments start to ……..

Advertisement