An orange splits open

(from the NaPoWriMo prompt: write about a particular fruit – your choice.) [To be honest, I wasn't looking forward to this still life poem, but I was working on a poem in my GUR file when I saw this one just sitting there. I have no memory of writing this so it might have been at night after a few cocktails. (I sometimes have to get out of bed because a poem is in my head and won't let me go to sleep, but in the morning, I often don't understand what I have written. Apparently, I didn't even remember that I wrote this one.) I don't usually let something like this out into the air, but for some reason this one has captured my imagination. Does this stretch the idea of "found poetry" a bit... What on earth was I thinking???]

In winter an orange splits open

pop-ready, juicy inner

exposed

exposed

red flesh, juicy meat

my skin splits open in the cold.