The Southern Cone of the Orange

Fruit of Knowledge


We explore both hemispheres in this Magpie Tale

May is the month in which winter’s deceptions must be reconciled.

The sheltering fog has been burned off to reveal skies of cloudless cobalt cruelty.

The public presentation of self must be rethought.  Delusions and denials are

more difficult to harbor, their corsets itching and causing rashes as burgeoning

armies of beetles and dragonflies produce more young and seem to be providing

judgmental witness as the bruised fruit goes soft much faster in these warmer

afternoons.  The evening’s sun reflected in the large windows of the cottages

on the hill across the valley peer far away, knowing that Montevideo woolens

and mittens are being sold as the autumn of the Southern Cone drifts toward

the chills of July.  The field guide of the soul struggles to find the other

hemisphere of the self that is a mirror of the public presentation — the display of

summer knows that the other half is experiencing winter at the same time, and

eventually these roles will be reversed, over and over.  No, we do have

bananas today. And kumquats and bitter melons and prickly pears.  The

picking of fruit is not as simple a task as you have been led to believe.

The decisions made link us so fully, the Chilean grapes glistening

under artificial light in Connecticut’s darkest December hour

embody the deception’s finest feat.  The public presentation that  denies the

nature of the season and the fruit that crossed the equator for our pleasure.


One response to “The Southern Cone of the Orange

  1. I enjoyed your short story and the unique interpretation of this work of art. I also felt the rhythm of poetry in your writing. Beautifully done!

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