Victoria McArtor
THREE ORANGES IN THE MORNING
but last night
there were four
until he muddled the body of the orange with a reasonable rye
we thought what we afforded each other was more than sensory
and less than waste
until he dropped the rind
down the disposal
letting the aroma press out of skin until the syrup of memory
was already making promises
to adhere
as if we could compel the atmosphere to be a little more inhabitable
as if we could change
our lives in an instant
for us
I mean
RX
if forgotten
coconut water and
her stomach facing up
if remembered
picture a landscape
you’ve never seen
if surge
wish you had
less to loose
if splurge
rid yourself of what
winter dulls
if starving
smells of citrus in the afternoon coming through
if your securing the anchor don’t
if gone
let’s keep going
THE SEVENTH YEAR
How did the spider conceive of
the thread inside her head—
How can I
after tucking
so deeply inside your web—
Victoria McArtor holds an MFA from Oklahoma State University; is a former adjunct professor for the University of Tulsa; works for a luxury residential mortgage team; and is co-founder of a poetry and collaborative arts nonprofit, MUSED. Her previously published poetry and prose can be binged at victoriamcartor.com.