A Different Light

Underneath the overcast

Is it overcast today?
I ask my aide, watching the orange peels fly between her fingers.
Able bodied people peel oranges so well, so effortlessly, I think.

Not really, she says, pulling the orange sections apart
Ignoring seeds and pulp as she plops pieces in a cup.
Although it was overcast when I woke up.

Underneath are words we do not say.
Underneath the overcast
We stay.

Ruth Harrigan Copyright 2007

Leave a Reply

Welcome to A Different Light, a blog with poetry, fiction and essays about disability

Pages