Valet

By: Shelbi Henny

Satsuma Mandarin
a tantalizing conundrum
of separating a bitter 
sting 
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