“At first, heartbreak made me beautiful.

My skin fluoresced. I hypnotized trees.

The orphans followed me around town,

drunk on my pain. I ate only my own

hunger, gave off a scent like bitter oranges

or chlorine. Loss left me strangely whole,

as if my sadness, were it strong enough,

could turn your ship around. That was back

when I aged. Now, like an astronomer

who seeks no first causes, but only to map

the connections pinned out over the sea,

I want to diagram the light that shines out

through the holes you pricked into me.”

Applies to Oranges, Maureen Thorson