THE LEMON THAT TALKS
I hear voices. They come from a bunch of lemons. Five lemons to be exact. Actually, I hear only a voice. But I cannot figure it out which of the five is making the sound? I listen carefully. The voice, it rhymes. It sings a beautiful poem about how it misses its father. I look again. Four lemons have their asses pointed out. One lemon has its pointy head protruding. So, I figure, that must be the talking lemon. But it has no mouth. I took the lemon and I cut it into two. I squeeze its juice until the juice runs down my elbow. I squeeze it again and again into my mouth to kill any damned virus that may have colonised my throat. I look out the window and I sing the rhythm of the poem. The poem about how I miss my father.
By Jo Haq
12:26 am
25 May 2021
KL Eco City
