how to peel an orange

I watch you
peeling an orange –
how your fingertips
graze the
dimpled surface,
thumbs caress
the skin around,
brush across,
the slightly protruding
navel.

Nails biting
into the flesh
firmly before
you slide under
the edges,

peeling off
its outer layers, soon
scattered without care
across the table.

Each segment,
a finger slipped
into the crevice between,
stroked apart
until the orange
is in pieces before you.

Your artist hands
must feel
my kindred hunger-
press against my lip, open,
feed me.

Sweet juices fill
my mouth – I chew even the
bitter seed, savoring all
’til the end.