Oranges

---

Jaiden Radoczy

 

There are oranges in

a dish on the counter.

They sit, perfect and round, 

until you push your thumb

through the rind.

Juice sprays everywhere. 

 

There are oranges in

a dish on the counter,

and I know that doesn’t mean

anything to you.

Not the way it does to me,

at least. 

 

There are oranges in

a drawer of the fridge.

You moved them when

they started to bruise. 

I take a segment and

wince at the taste. 

 

There are oranges in

a drawer of the fridge,

and I worry they’re

making me sick. 

I eat them anyway and

gag at the feel on my tongue. 

 

There are oranges in 

a box in the pantry. 

Foil wrapped and made

of chocolate, they’re not

the same. My hands are

still left sticky. 

 

There are oranges in

a box in the pantry. 

She gave them to me

as a gift. “I know 

how you love.” She wasn’t 

talking about oranges.

 

There are oranges in

the palms of our hands. 

There is pith under my 

nails, juice and chocolate

staining my fingers.

She smiles and it doesn’t matter.

 

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Jaiden Radoczy double majored in women’s studies and comparative literature at Rutgers. She’s from East Brunswick, NJ, and was a member of Douglass Residential College. She loves reading and writing, and hopes to continue her studies after undergrad to become a librarian.

Jaiden wrote this poem in a course taught by Joanna Fuhrman, who selected the piece for inclusion in WHR.