Dead Orange
After my father died that winter
I let an orange in the fruit bowl go bad
I was curious to watch and hold it
as it decomposed
I expected it to rot
spread its blight
attract fat flies
But it only dried
into a hardened
sunken shell
It lives still in the corner
of my bedside table drawer
It looks like a fossilized breast
with a thumb print pressed
in its nipple-tipped center
a scar from when it was pulled
from its mother
It once held juice
a sweet and sour fruit
with seeds to be planted
to carry on its name
its brand and reputation
The backside is blackened
with a telltale mark
like a dented bumper
never fixed
Its color is still recognizable
exotic skin squished and frozen
It has no scent
or sound when I shake it
It could be jam
Or someone else’s orange
that was sadly never eaten
Kept in the dark
how long can it last?
What is it good for now?
~ Colleen Redman
April 20th, 2009 11:22 am
i like it.
I like you
I enjoy coming here never knowing what awaits
but knowing that the thoughts inside your mind
have a familiarity with those in mine.
so many oranges have dried
but few have been turned into prose
and so delicately
well done
April 20th, 2009 11:29 am
Thank you, David. Your feedback means a lot to me.
April 20th, 2009 11:52 am
These relics, how they absorb meaning from the context around them. It’s not just us humans. I’ve seen other species do this, too; don’t you dare touch that special whatchamacallit that the dog has hidden in the back of the yard!
April 20th, 2009 12:42 pm
Fascinating. How something so simple is so rich in symbolism and memories! It is your creative mind, of course, that puts this into such insightful words.
April 20th, 2009 3:37 pm
I second David’s comment. And I like that his comment is made in the same poetry form you used.
April 20th, 2009 7:33 pm
Nice one Colleen…
April 20th, 2009 10:49 pm
I sometimes have a hard time reading poetry, but this drew me right in and invited me to stay.
April 21st, 2009 7:20 am
this is such a powerful poem, colleen. i think it should be published if it isn’t yet. it is my favorite of all you have written.
April 21st, 2009 10:24 am
Beautiful, Colleen. So poignant.
And thank you for commenting on my blog. Come back soon! 🙂
April 21st, 2009 11:41 am
David’s comment is so spot on. That is very deep Colleen.
April 21st, 2009 1:32 pm
Oh, this one took my breath away. The metaphor of the fruit, the nipple-tipped center, needing to watch the decomposition to bring an understanding or a claiming of power over the death. My lord, woman. This is powerful stuff.
April 22nd, 2009 7:03 pm
That is haunting and beautiful and sad. I take back what I said about the title in your last post.
April 23rd, 2009 5:49 pm
Neat experience.