Not the kingdom of God, being undecided
and all, nor the kingdom of this life, given
its many irregularities and the peach tree
with its offspring of oranges but I admire
and, dare I say it? love citrus and the decay
it’s capable of. I’m capable if I want to be.
It took this many years of licking salt cubes.
I’m staring at the kingdom of the ocean
and choking on seawater. I’m spitting it up
and I’m living. A round of applause, a tip
of the hat, a little show of respect. Joking,
yes, I’m joking. Kingdom of comedy. Stiff-
legged and in love. I’m chewing on rinds,
I’m soaking it all in. This leaving from one
kingdom to another and another because
I’m taking it all in and spitting out peach seeds,
and arriving to the kingdom of oranges and
I can see the pearly gates wide wide open
and the irresistible lowercase earth and
the smell of my dad’s hair alive. This
hanging on and on and on despite the fact.

Anthony Aguero is a queer writer in Los Angeles, CA. His work has appeared, or will appear, in the Carve Magazine, Rhino Poetry, Cathexis Northwest Press, 14 Poems, Redivider Journal, Maudlin House, and others.