~.~.~.~

Tea is bitter from the rind of orange
ship taking its last circle around a crater
I am tired of inhabiting worlds
re-made by your form
I want to wander off

For centuries I broke seed open in my hands
I could laugh at the pod's insides
the wet throne of nature

Now I am terrestrial, suspicious
then I am the breach between skies

Stopped me at a small table
in the cafeteria of rushing histories
tea is bitter from the rind of orange
there must be a sphere to lie down in

~.~.~.~