by Edward Lee
Mandarins for Christmas
You helped me pluck the
tender pulp
from between my teeth
orange slice smile
like strings pulled from dusk
that weaved deep poinsettia bows
big as infant eyes
curious and new to be
swaddled
Oh father
you told me
mandarins were special
their zest rose above the salt and fish
and small fingers with
keratin stained like nail polish
held the scent
clinging to Christmas
long past
You shared such acidity
sweet and fresh
on the lips
stinging deep in the cracks
of old winters
biting
in-between the bitterness
For your want
of taste
never drooled down on me
despite the cuts
deep
on your thumb
browned callous
hard-stemmed
from peeling
in wait of war
wells of
fruit
filled your hands
for me
and in the soft slices
I only ate smiles
Kaitlin Neal is a queer poet based in Alberta, Canada. Kaitlin’s work explores their own experiences with identity, belonging, connection and mental illness. Kaitlin has been published in Shadow and Sax Literary Arts Magazine and has a poetry zine available at the Grant MacEwan University Library. More of their work can be found on Instagram: @kaitlinnneal.
Edward Lee is an artist and photographer from Ireland. His paintings and photography have been exhibited and published widely, with many pieces in private collections. His website can be found at https://lastimagesphotography.comTwitter: @EdwardLeeArtist2 Instagram: @edwardleeart