I’m sucking lemons in the corner
thinking my saliva will turn acid into something sweet—like lemonade
and I’ll keep chewing on them
all of its bitter rind and sourness
till my feet are up, spread out on the corner walls—my back’s freezing from the cold hard floor and my cheeks are turning red. I’m blushing because I know they’ll never change
they’ll never change into something sweet
they never do
so I’ll move on to limes and—