The Orange Grove

By a shed
in an orange grove
walking dusk
the coral
amid gray shafts
lighting his flesh filmy
and stepping deep
into the black under-turf
Earth and eve                                                        
he opens to the grass
                                      and would fold
around the oranges
but the owners come faceless
                                           picking
with pitchforks

He is trespassing

          He covers himself
The ranch women                                           
reprimand                                            
with their scarves
He protests                                                                              
“I’m just passing through this orange grove
I haven’t eaten any”…

…in their house
he finds their daughter’s room
He touches her orange-skin thighs

She says she wants to live in the orange grove
in the shed                                                        
                     so she can see him when she wants
She says she will ask her mother                                                     
His doubts hang in the standing winter
                  uneaten
                                                        they grow moldy
                               and drop

into the grass