Nicole Tallman

Orange Light

The horses in the stables eat oranges—
intact with their skins still on. No one
has brought them to slaughter. Glue works
best when everything moves on. When you
see orange, do you think fruit or hunter?
We’ve been trained to rewire our thoughts.
I think the youth like me more than
the gatekeepers. I throw my ream in the ring
like a whore. Who wants a piece of my pages?
Turn your hazard lights on and burn orange.

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