Orange Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Orange is
Slogans, fists and drums,
Frightened women closing windows and doors,
Children snatched from the street.

Orange is
Xmas morning.
A window of frosted stars,
A tangerine like a huge carbuncle
Down at the toe of a woolly sock,
Its coat tugged quickly off
Like a fat lady's on a hot day.

Orange is a
A magnificent mincing cat
Walking across the room,
Its tail erect and waving.

Orange is marmalade toast,
Slowly melting into bread
While roasted coffee pours.

Orange is rioting petticoats
In a hot Brazilian fiesta.

Orange is
Pips afloat in the moat of a squeezer,
Launched in a squirt to soothe a streaming cold.

Orange is
A tease.
Not as easily won
As a Cox's Pippin,
It requires foreplay to get its juices flowing.

Orange is
Cheap and plastic, a Woolworth's picnic cup,
Or Buddhist cool in meditation robes.