I will take your orange from the table
round fruit removed from pale yellow surface
I’ll take the one on the left
as it is separate
the single one that doesn’t mingle
doesn’t jostle or crowd together
the one apart
                                  as I am apart
I’ll take it as the amber light
reflected in the blue glass
the deep night sky
of the cobalt pitcher fades
one light gone out
not even a nova just quietly fading
I will roll it on my skin
to scent myself sweet