By: Shelbi Henny

Satsuma Mandarin
a tantalizing conundrum
of separating a bitter
rectifying a vine
that crosses beneath
my valet
rocking on a center piece
that swings to no despair
and leaves crossing over
branches that no longer
single wood
yet tests the listings
of forgotten fruit
we linger
and lines dangle
reflect a subtle neck
and tangible spaces
that leave nothing left
that hang nothing left

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