Ode to an Orange

Fully, I hate the way
the rind of an orange burrows
beneath fingernails
and lingers like a splinter
and spurts sticky juice
onto prying hands
trying to peel,
as if a warning:
do not enter.
I cut the head
and the butt of this citrus
in half,
and I half the halves
and once more,
and I have an octet of golden wedges
that I will slurp sap
from as if sweet ambrosia,
push my lips
around.
But am I–
really, am I like a child
as I smile
a big wide bright orange
smile, growing fruit teeth
and opening his mouth
to speak, yet met
with nothing but zest?

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Zachary Pedigo (he/him) is a senior at Oakland University studying Creative Writing with a specialization in Fiction. When not reading or writing, you can find him at a concert or somewhere with one of his many cameras.