TURBINE | KAPOHAU

BRAD ALDRIDGE

homemaking

a plastic bag
burst open
on the front steps:
six fresh oranges
that didn’t quite
make it home.
under the
electric light,
tiny glowing suns.

i lie and say
i’m going to
fix this,
stay outside
to ask them how
they survive
the violence.
you carry on, storing
the salt, vinegar, honey,
neatly into the dark.