Media Naranja (Prose Poem)

Media Naranja

In the beginning we were all just whole—we were sweet oranges, rolling around, content. But all it took was one divine decision—a split—and now we search every wrinkle of the earth for our Media Naranja. But if you were anything but an orange, that’d be okay too. If you were a tree, shocked to the core by a lightning strike, left smoldering and broken—or if you were one half of the grand canyon, yawning and yearning to be reunited. Or even if you were half of a grapefruit—I would just want to be a grapefruit too.

A Toast

A Toast

For all the times I baked a pie for you

Knowing you’d tilt your smile my direction—

For all the times I asked and you said soon,

And by avoiding you thought that you had won.

For all the times I slept against your breath

And hoped you’d stay to keep my feet warm.

For all the times I thought I’d fix that mess

Of spines and blinders without getting torn.

But even with the blinks and all the smiles

That never quite rang true, I know I tried—

But even with your heartless, heatless guile

It wasn’t ‘til you left I learned to cry.

            We both had orbits never quite our own—

            We caused the brick walls to crumble and drown.