Balance
Emileigh Barnes

     

Your box of blood oranges, which you peeled and put in my lap, 1 + 1 + 1 + 1

 

Your shovel skinned our backyard like peeling the earth's membrane,

revealed a layer of clay red and flat as rugburn.

 

That winter, the trees suffocated in storm, bones glazed, engorged in their ice shells.

Walking under them, I knew, this is silent. Their coil = (calculating arch).

 

Seamuscle, you flicked salt on a cityscape of rime. We learned glaciers

are heart-blue at their cores.

 

Like shrapnel, rinds assembled in our trash. Sediment.

How to balance two people: 

My weight₁ x my distance₁ = Your weight₂ x your distance₂

 

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