The Logger

He appeared orange among oranges.
She – who was jealous of his color –
was cutting the fruits from his garden
eating for days –
until she became orange too.
They suited each other –
For a glimpse –

But
there were no oranges
no wood for him to cut
it was already cut
it was all burnt
And –
He – was never orange
but grey – black  
like the ashes from the fireplace.
In the garden –
The oranges were plastic
The trees were paper trees
The wood was stones
And –
She – was never orange
but purple – blue
from the bitter poison inside the mouth.
And they suited each other –
Perfectly.