The Paddock Review

FOUND FRUIT

 

found a solitary small 

          orange

on the ground out walking

the block, first walk postpartum 

with the baby wrapped up

against the rush of viejitas

cooing and clutching

like mourning doves, 

& some viejitos too—

my people, mi gente,

mi barrio. sky mid-february

gray. where’d that orange

come from, then, 

           single spot of color

           blown onto the sidewalk,

no tree in sight? 

last of late-winter 

westside citrus, 

the backyard ornamentals

too hard for viejitas

to pick. whatever

the case, i peel

and eat it

once home,

feeling pale golden 

fingers of fruit

steeping like sunshine

into my milk—and boy

is it good,

almost perfect, 

            a high note of tang 

wild as night wind 

whistling at the top 

of unseen trees.

…..

This poem is from the book
The Bird Church by Marisol Cortez (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/the-bird-church-by-marisol-cortez/