top of page
  • Writer's pictureAmanda

Crate of Clementines

My head is a crate of clementines

One tumbles in, another out


I think my color is shifting to magenta

Or burgundy or brown.


I read my old writing and I remember

Cycles of yellow, grey, red.

Yellow, grey, red.


A woman gave me her glasses

I stared at the sun

We stood on the beach.

Watched the moon take its place


Maybe my colors will stabilize 

Maybe my crate will grow

Or the clementines will lessen


Whenever I’m yellow

I think it’s forever

Inevitable, the grey knocks again.

18 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Wetlands

The sky opens up I can finally inhale again The trees are sparse and the atmosphere takes a breath This marsh looks an awful lot like farmland. No red structures, no cattle dotting the horizon Lacking

Good Luck Entry

I fell asleep in the New York Public library Probably not the first I flipped through the pages of pretentious poetry Feigned concentration Convinced myself that closed eyes were interchangeable with

Comments


bottom of page