Tomorrow, my kitchen will be neroli-adjacent;
tonight, the slicing. Awake
twenty-one hours and counting, I needed
to make something for myself, sing or bring
some good into
this day-passed but still present: 3am.
The sixth is over, but not. Six oranges
are starting transformation
soaking up silky syrup before drying. Oh
that alchemical moment,
sugar and water just bubble and clear.
My vision blurs more, eyes
finally dry but aching. Knife
in sink; sweetness will come.