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​LEMONS
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On the mountain that always defeated me
I learned to love lemons.
I cut them in wet jewel slices.

In the sun, they were stained glass in my cup.
I rubbed the shiny leaf
and the yellow-green smell was on my hand.

I made such a fuss
that people gave me bags of lemons
from their trees–
I was rich!

I carried them in my suitcase
from the mountain to the city,
packed them in that tiny fridge.

On the last day,
I left them to the nuns
who were glad to have them.
Those lemons without bitterness.