my pores opened up last night
and breathed in cigarettes with cloves
liquor with deer blood that ran through my body to my toes
past the prickly chemicals that got in there too somehow
and in my orange floral dress they remain open
soaking in the first warm day in april
trying to recollect conversations and cure a hangover
staying still, walking slow
slumped up against a concrete wall I peel a clementine
a parting gift from somebody
and my fingertips soaked in the sticky sweet rind resin
revealing insides, opening doors that weren't there
until my fingernails demanded them to be
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