A Lemon
A lemon delivers an entire system. Part fact, part dream. For example, to say the word
‘lemon’ is to taste it. To repeat the word ‘lemon’ is to bring it into the light of
day.
Add a knife to this scenario. Hear the white heat of blade call out to the rind’s cool
seal. A sharp exhale as steel enters fruit and a pale yellow light leaves the
world.
When a lemon breathes it’s a sick woman breathing. It’s the pure acid breath of her
mind which lights the room with a single thought: why do I pursue impossible
things?
Like the lemon, whose independence from sorbet, gin & tonic and cheesecake is
widely recognised, the woman – having no allegiances – makes a light of her
own.
Amy McCauley was born in 1981 and grew up in Warwickshire and North Yorkshire. She has worked as a bartender, busker, cleaner, life model and waitress. She is currently working towards a PhD in Aberystwyth.