For both my J’s. I made a show of it, for her. I wanted her to see my fingers at work. How I washed my hands first, then dried them. I used the tip of the knife to break the skin, then thrust my left index finger in that tiny slit, while I held the orange in my right hand. And from the opening and initial thrust peel separated from flesh in a long and serpentine strip To fall away to the napkin that lay on the shiny chromed steel tray. The spherical sweetness of pulp and juice and membrane now lost its symmetry as, section by section, the orange became like labial petals And I fed each one into her open mouth.