Excerpt from "The Orangery"
by Gilbert Sorrentino

 

Nothing is the thing that rhymes with orange.
Who knows it knows it even in Laredo.
And in Laredo church bells chime and chime
until the brain surrenders.

 

There the blonde in the Buick went
to murmur of acceleration
and orange twilight over Joliet.

 

How is it that I have come out here
where nothing rhymes with orange?
I have your photo in a black silk dress
wherein your face is a mystery.

 

These images persist snow crystals
brilliant upon this iron world. Your face within
the smoke of an orange corona. Corona.