doorway of old house, illuminated at night
Ode to an Orange Peel
Cara Thomas

Sun-beaten and withered,
orphaned from your beauty,
divided from your source,
you lay at my feet, dejected

The gnashing teeth and anxious fingers that tore you open,
far removed and unapologetic
but once, you breathed,
embracing gentle juicy flesh,
sustaining the luscious mystery within,
as sunlight became you.

Unexpectedly plucked from your fortress,
pregnant with the proof of your existence,
tempting the selective senses of your consumer,
your potential not yet exhausted.

And when that moment arrived
you burst open to reveal the sweet destiny of your efforts.
The exquisite segments within exploding in gratuitous succulence
as you fall to the ground,
the temporary evidence of a common miracle,
scarcely recognizable, devoid of esteem,
to decay without a trace from whence you came.