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Grapefruit<\/strong><\/p>\n A yellow globe sliced in half, a hemisphere of pliable skin, a whole serving, a cool sun in a shallow bowl\u2014such is the grapefruit. To one who sits upright eyes half closed, it says: Wake up!<\/span><\/p>\n The bamboo handle of the serrated spoon is the bone of a finger, jointed and pale. I plunge it in flesh rosy as dawn. Juice spurts on the tabletop, a puddle on patterned laminate. I long to lap the blood of the grapefruit, freshly spilled, tart and clean, the essence of citrus.<\/span><\/p>\n Geometry makes me pause. Is the grapefruit an image of the cosmic wheel? Hollow hub and golden rim, linked by many spokes, it wobbles and revolves. Or is it the mystic rose of the world, the round window in the west front of a Gothic cathedral, its petals filled with light and color? A delicate fragrance sways me.<\/span><\/p>\n I dig with the spoon in a section. I lift a triangular prism to my mouth. I crush the cells with my teeth. I work the seeds free with my tongue and spit them. I work my way around the circle, turn the bowl, stab and eat, and so enact the universal drama. Empty membranes quiver. One last full chunk remains . . .<\/span><\/p>\n The grapefruit looks bare and translucent, robbed of goodness. In the palm of my hand, I squeeze the rind so the juice runs. I relax, unfold, and squeeze again. I drain the drops to a little foam. I discard the misshapen rind like a ball that has lost its bounce.<\/span><\/p>\n I raise the rim of the bowl to my lips. I drink the pink juice as though my life depended on it. I smack my tongue for the taste.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Robert Boucheron<\/strong> is an architect in Charlottesville, Virginia. His writing appears in Aldus Journal of Translation, Atticus Review, Bangalore Review, Cerise Press, Cossack, Conclave, Construction, Digital Americana, Gravel, Grey Sparrow Journal, Heavy Feather Review, IthacaLit, JMWW, Lowestoft Chronicle, Milo Review, Montreal Review.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Grapefruit A yellow globe sliced in half, a hemisphere of pliable skin, a whole serving, a cool sun in a shallow bowl\u2014such is the grapefruit. To one who sits upright eyes half closed, it says: Wake up! The bamboo handle of the serrated spoon is the bone of a finger, jointed and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-17633","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17633","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17633"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17633\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17857,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17633\/revisions\/17857"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17633"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17633"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17633"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}