Biodecay

Oranges I. Thinking themselves thieves, they feed on the ripe as the cart owner on the highway fingers peels, rinds, forgotten leaves and listens to the voices of his customers like moving cars. II. To articulate herself she keeps the cream in one hand and licks the rust off her once black kettle.  The tea is waiting on the counter to be drowned as she says to him: Let me live in my ashes. Her echolalia says: scissors, sliver as the image of diseased pigeon wings echoes on her eyelids.   Twenty years of echolalia. III. There is a boy who lives in his own palms, collecting teeth from the children who fight. At six o'cl