Clementines Poem by Neso Onyeuche

Sunset-hued balls of sugar
idle on the platter.
not like oranges,
less acidic.
these are sweet;
they don't
hurt.

Clementines
are such a lifesaver
when citric acid punishes like liquid flame.

Take off the peel
to undress this
tantalizingly loose-skinned gift.

...

Teeth slide right through,
taste like solid honey,
missing the tingly embrace of citrus.

Tender flesh is ersatz, really—
lifeless and cold, like a kiddie version.
Maybe fire was never that bad.

Pass me an orange.