15/52: orange forgetting

it's only occasionally that I go through the effort
of getting a knife to cut into the rind of an orange

usually I drive my front teeth through the skin
vampire-like, rupturing

then rending with my thumb,
pulling back the protective layer, chunking it

but it's also only occasionally that I toss the scraps
on the ground, not placing them in the trash can

the peels from last year, the last time
I was heedless, was callous

are still there by the roots of that tree
the edges turned up, but still accusingly orange

these transgressions, however small
in the face of the universe

are not forgotten
in the grass.