the first seed i sowed was borne by the land of st alphons’ i saw your skin’s bronze hue and immediately i knew you came from a mother like mine wedded off with feet holding up a gold mine with marigolds on her neck and her mother’s salty peck off she went to settle in the county of kent i watered the soil of naivety whilst biting into the flesh of an apricot when my lips a lover’s knot became undone in your presence a broken comb on a beehive spilling honey like a penance one day the roots shook uncertain on a slippery slope the game being balancing on a tightrope it ended in a smothering of clay for only you saw it as child’s play your cackle brought burns to my face and i saw embarassment dressed in fire rays when harvest came i realised you did not see the world in shades like mine when you decided the southern spices on my skin were just not to your liking i tried to be less of me and more of who you wanted me to be sanded myself down to be as beautiful as the palaces of oman you told me about but i stayed bittersweet a sultana just not the sultana to your sultan so today when the bees have left their doom and the southern tree is in full bloom i ask you this did you never choose me because i am orange? and nothing ever rhymes with orange
chocolate orange - teresa kavumpuram