Blood Orange

29 Dec
from the stocking

to the counter, the razor-sharp knife

slices the head and tail off

watch it bleed, mouth waters

The Christmas house, rooms scented

orange peel and date-pit chickory

sip by the golden regal tree,

starburst section squirts blood-red

red from orange, green, and gold

Big Ben chimes the end, but it lingers

more than the eyes or senses combined

the child shall lead on to the next

whose blood atoned
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Posted by on December 29, 2021 in Poetry



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