- Vol. 08
- Chapter 11
Image by Vika Wendish
ORANGE IS A WORD I USE TO MAKE SMALL TALK
Silent, we think about the word orange
when looking at the ocean, hands hanging
We fall, side by side and walk, but only
half bother to talk, after the shouting.
Orange fishes? Orange beaks of seagulls.
Orange sunlight, you whisper, as
You gaze lovingly at the ocean
and take a photo with a click. I cough.
All I get is a glare…
So, I talk to strangers. I hire them
to fish for driftwood and seashells.
I craft fingers for fishes and use
sand and clay for palms.
Everyone should get a hand to hold.