Oranges

The oranges heavy in the tree
are a constellation, a woman's voice.

I drove past groves of them
when dawn was just beginning
to peel back the darkness with its bright thumb,

and it was row after row
like a choir slowly lifting its melody.

We demanded nothing from each other.
It was early, and longing
would have only blinded us.

While the west was still black
I wanted to drive out
to the low valley
in moonlight and fog.

to scoop handfuls of the night
and carry them with me
straight into morning.
Guillermo Cancio-Bello is from Miami, Florida, and he is a recent graduate from the MFA program at Florida International University.