"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray

"Poetry unites." ~Anon

"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson


Written by Arlene Ang
She lives in Spinea, Italy
Her website: Arlene Ang

(Originally published in Creations Magazine,
Vol. 18, Issue 3, June/July 2004)

Blood Oranges in Spring

Like Botero's women,
plump with dimples --
an orotund sunset gathering.
My eyes grow accustomed
to windows, observing
fruit fall on grass.
Since the slip downstairs,
my wrinkled ankle has bloated
to sanguinello beauty.
The hired gardener comes daily
to tend my flowers, a stillborn
loneliness on his lapel.
Twice now, he has left two
ripe-red orbs on the porch bench
like a humbling confession of love.

Posted with consent from the writer.

2 Comments:

  1. WHY? said...
    Love the imagery, and the reference to Botero's women and plump with dimples.
    K.Lawson Gilbert said...
    How very lovely. Every word is succulent, and the overall poem presents itself in rich detail.

    Fabulous work, really.

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