Sugar Fields

Molasses black oranges sit on a table.
Some flies are born under their skin and wriggle.
A man sits alone in a Mercury Sable.
Pale eyes spy on you from a shard of glass.

Claret lips leave marks on a nighttime rind.
Candied innards gush forward tinged with gold.
A maple flute is offered in chapped hands.
Grey eyes leak a grey wash brought by grey tides.

Sickness in sugary fields.
Black gushes from oranges turned to wine.
Tongue slithers on fluted ridges.
Grey eyes capture the world from years away.

Chewed ends of a long-dead string dangle in rotten teeth.
Flakes of a dying sunset lounge on seats in the weeds.
Noxious single notes waft along tides of citrus dreams.
Grey eyes open once under a solitary moon.

Candied innards choked up past a cracking tongue.
Citrus dreams stunted in gilt and draped in quilts.
You're holding pulped sun, you hum a silent hymn.
Grey eyes shut under necrotic dawn.

Tangerines hang from a tree.