I reach

And grasp

A lemon

Fresh and firm

Bright yellow

Bicep curling

It to the counter

Steady under hand

Pressing its erratic

Tendency to wobble

 Immobile.

^

Cutting it in half

One side rolls off

On a tight axis.

The inside layer is white

Like the mouth

Of a cotton mouth cobra.

Pale yellow juice

Glazes over

The exposed

Inner flesh

Gathering

Into a few fat drops.

^

I cut the halves into quarters

And lift a wet slice

To my mouth

Scrunching

Down a rush

Of sour citrus.

^

Whistling tea

Excites her voice

From the other room.

I put a wedge

In to two mugs

And breathe sweet perfume

In rising tendrils of steam.

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