Celebrating the lemon

by Ana Prundaru

mother vacuums, spills the night
slicing salty air
his backpack’s up and down

passing the same dog on the way to school
neighbor’s clothesline
runs a white river

a tiny world inside the thick orange pulp
the heart weightless in the purple-gree
wilderness of the vegetable garden

a pond in his palm and feathered
bird pressed to feathers
on the pavement

rain reformats silence, tells a short story
a story where he squeezes
between fence posts

adorned with contorted morning glories
the dog is chained to a lemon tree and puts
its face in his wet palms

they watch the world; the dog with his faithful
triangle eyes and him with a lemon
in one hand

mother puts his muddy clothes
in the washing machine
calls the lemon a badge of courage

Ana Prundaru is a Romanian transplant in the birthplace of milk chocolate, who splits her free time between creative endeavors and volunteering for animal welfare causes. Recent work is forthcoming from DIAGRAM and the Journal of Compressed Creative Arts.

Photo by: Ana Prundaru