In all the (grand) universe, there is nothing
more important than a (fresh) lemon —
to suggest otherwise is (sadly) inhuman

the sour bite of it’s flesh on a (human) tongue
the bitter seeds that split in a mouth (accidentally)
the artificial desire for cleanliness (implied)

Karen’s grandmother, being sweet — (often) used
these perfect citrus hymns to a (kindly) distant God
to celebrate (sweet) love with her

sugar, lemons, water and so (damned) much time
seconds, minutes – forever stirred (well)
then her soul – also stirred (better)

the recipe is not in the (cold) water or the sugar
but her grandmother’s (beautiful) smile
and the lemons. Most importantly the (fresh) lemons.

years later, her grandmother is gone, the (thick) scent
of citrus hangs in the air for (ever) just a moment
she sighs. what could be more important than that?