I am the rind of an orange
tried with eager mouths and tossed
into the wastebasket
with a handful of other
almost successes. The outside
of a world plump and full of
oozing joy, sugar mixes with tartness
in the spirit of equilibrium.
I am too far on one side,
unbalanced in discipline
and failure. Time
makes me timid when
teeth dig into the surface
of my skin, beyond the
colors.
I am left imprinted with
the shape of a jaw, reminders of
each recycling. Planted
in a compost pile I
nourish gold medals and
refresh the screen
of God’s computer with a new
life, a new fruit.
I am the rind of an orange,
left to round and rot.