Lemon and Water

I hold the liquid under my tongue,

feel the juice furring my teeth,

rub the lemon oil on my fingers,

think of being ten—and you.

 

Whenever I see a glass of water

next to a lemon, bright in sunlight,

I remember you carefully sawing

a lemon in half, arthritic fingers

curled around it, squeezing

juice into a tumbler, pips sinking

down to the bottom of the glass:

 

drinking it all down, the sweetness

and bitterness, together.

 

 

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