Lately,
I have been dreaming
of lemons,
wondering
what might be
lacking
to make me ache
to press my tongue
flush
with the belly
of fruit.

Legends say
Hera’s dower
was an orchard
of citrus
at the ends of the earth
where the sun dies
each day,
and in it,
three women
tended gardens
lush and seeking,
and stolen many times
by the hands
of man.

What a loss
it must be,
to never feel
the fingers
of a woman
who would surely know:
you have only
to ask.

Kolbe Riney is a queer poet and student based out of Tucson, Arizona. Her work appears in the West Trestle Review and Persona, and is forthcoming in To Write Your Name.