An Orange in the Dark
I rolled an orange across daybreak;
I waited for the moon to ripen.
I held you close, felt your ear in my palm
As I paced the candle-lit coffee table.
The biscuits had gone stale again
As buses crept under the open window—
Passengers lit up like an aquarium.
I felt your breathing regulate
As the waste bins piled high
And the fridge light became a companion,
Stolid and immobilised in the night.
I opened the tap into the mouth of morning.
I buried my face in the warm pillow.
I flicked through my phone calendar
And set arbitrary alarms to keep on track.
I wrote lists of food stuffs and house stuffs
And felt your eyes in the darkness as I
Counted objects in the fruit bowl.
I watched as the moon began to golden;
I rolled an orange across daybreak.
Henry Wilkinson is a South London based writer, poet, former music journalist, and editor/founder of Dark Entries zine. His writing is influenced by alternative music and culture, lo-fi aesthetics, gothic literature, and Moby-Dick.