VISIBILITY Magazine Issue 02. (April 2017) - Page 43

Orange the juiced mist sprung free of the peel at each seam ripped open lingers now like a distant ghost or holy memory perfuming the air with what smells to you like citrus sin. with each tiny burst of sun sweet light you thank its mother tree and the man in Florida or California who picked from it the perfect form that now sits pulled apart in your hands mirroring your own. -Anonymous 36