Skip to content

I want to be the lemons in the bowl

on the cover of the magazine. I want

to be round, to be yellow, to be pulled

from branches. I want to be wax, to be

white with pith, to be bright, to be zested

in the corners of a table. I want you

to say my name like the word: lemon.

Say it like the word: limón. Undress me

in strands of rind. I want my saliva to be

citrus. I want to corrode my husband's

wedding ring. I want to be a lemon

with my equator marked in black ink -

small dashes to show my shape: pitted & convex.

Lima Limón :: Infancia

Natalie Scenters-Zapico

More from
Poem of the Week

Ed Roberson

Luxe