it is fruit season: winter season,
fruit season because in december
i claw open every tangerine i can
set my fingers on
and sultanas were my favourite when i was depressed

you were my favourite.

sultanas for winter too,
my pockets are always spilling sweet with them

pulp drips down my palms, wrists
when i tear open tender orange flesh like this

my french family do not know how to feed me,
so i am always head in the fruit bowl,
sticky fingers and eye bags,
thinking of you so dizzily in the sun