...in fragments or in one coiling brightness

Orange Girl Suite [excerpt]
by Simone Muench

1:
Young women carrying baskets of oranges used to stand near the stage in London theatres and sell oranges at sixpence apiece and themselves for little more

between dresses we came.
between naked and nothing
we slipped into the delirious
coils of perfected ears,

pear dust on our skin
sarsparilla sounding our
fizzied song in sailor mouths.

we were translated by churchwomen
who placed umlauts over our words.

when we recovered, we were sold
in beautiful clothes, sent sailing into the gulf
where the moon pitched
its lemon-lateness over the celluloid

slickness of sea. we were movie stars
who never entered the frame.
we were green and gone

lisping "o" words in the air:
ode, odalisque, obituary.


2:
The rynde of the orrendge is hot, and the meate within it is cold

there are only two ways
to peel an orange
in fragments or in one
coiling brightness.
let us rewind and revel
in the orangeade of sun-
decked eyes. turn me spinning
in a carousel-sweet dress
ear marked by radio teeth
red leaf breath.
your arm is on fire
as we ride in a dark
car to the carnival.
the constant clink
of seatbelt to belt buckle.
the sky's cotton candy
melting in a girl's cold mouth.