By: Jenny Keto
a cut orange in
drought—to bite into
wet flesh after tachy-
heart cardio burns
breath hot as air
air hot as breath
climbing Mount Bonnell
up the peak of Texas
summer heat—as is
my afternoon routine.
I pass passersby
panting as their dogs
do legside. We’re all
beating hearts—breath—
legs—feet—steps—up—down—
all sweat drenched, but for
mouths—a sun tacky cotton
asking for ah—like
Allah—Ah!—such
sweet, wet quenching. When
summit greets me
standing at
the edge of precipice,
all lake waves flirt with light
winks, and my muscles
hum blush to the song of sun heat.
Like the greatest refrain,
I answer my thirst
with pressed rind into
lips— a drip—as teeth dig for
what sunset color
this pulp keeps
in so many tight, slick
pockets—to pierce and let
seep from lips—to lips—in mouth—
on tongue—ah, what sweet release!
Jenny Keto is a poet, a psychiatric nurse, a former actress, a proud Austinite, and an origami enthusiast. She's counting on a wish after 1,000 cranes folded, and 1,000 poems written. Much of her poetry grapples with the space between the heart and the intractable mind and has appeared or is forthcoming in Stanchion Zine, Cathexis Northwest Press, Déraciné Magazine, Francis House, The Conglomerate, wards, Broken City, and Visitant.