Nothing rhymes with orange. A poem by Dean Kelly

Herself brought larger than expected
Oranges, not my sentimental clementines.
Wrested with weekly essential goods,
For which I should, be grateful.
But petty regret aerosolised,
With pith burst, revelation.
In threatening-slow dandelion days,
Like Proust’s buns,
Sweet momental savour impels
A green bin rummage to reveal:
Mandarins, Variety, Orri Jaffa,
Produce of a sickly Spain,
Seasonal in this spring of
Stationary domesticity;
Committed to memory
And social media.
Too ample time relegates
Long settled favourites.
But could dear remembrance permit,
(Nan liked an easy peeler),
Exchange of bingo hall handbag treats
For these, the plentiful scarcity
Of a new Emergency?
Decided ways replace casual fruit,
Our own-mind’s dividend in things
Small and great.
Thank God, all same,
Our old were sent off in style,
Instead a verse, pity nothing rhymes
With Orange.



Artist, various media…

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