navel

navel

today, 

the rind bit back,

each petal 

of the orange 

leaving

chalky slivers

of sun

beneath my nails.

by second nature, 

I peeled 

at the navel--

skin 

from veins 

from flesh. 

the seeds came

unexpected, 

slipping from 

startled fingertips-- 

those rows of 

bitter teeth. 

oh, 

all this time 

spent tracing  

each crease

in your pock-marked

skin, 

savoring 

how gently 

you parted from 

the pulp beneath, 

gifting me 

your soul of marigold. 

all this time, 

calling you 

by the wrong name, 

clementine.