Grapefruit Husks

A citric residue
Coats the bacon pink lips
Of all around the silent table,

Half serrated silver spoons
Sit beside a dozen quivering
Grapefruit husks,

A distant radio rolls the news,
Eyelids flicker a gentle waltz
And the kitchenware rattles,

Poorly cut videos flash and repeat,
Cracked echoes of longing
And whispered perception,

All dizzy days gone by
And stippled memories
Reaching out,

Sat in the sun dappled dust
And flickering in the haze
Of another privileged curse.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: