Citrus Orange by Alicia Krasner
Seventeen wasn’t High School Musical
It was the Joker’s Gotham,
I was its outcast.
I fluctuated between arsonist
Or mouse behind walls.
They marked me because my burns wreaked havoc,
Yet they ignored how I trembled
When the cat’s bell sounded.
They urged me to be peaceful,
But peace does not free you.
Too much peace strains the levee,
So that in dreams,
Water spills over.
In one such storm,
I dreamed Everything was citrus orange
The picnic shed I was under,
The rippling hills.
Adults chattered,
Nibbling bites,
With filling of said color.
It was a kid’s party
And no one spoke to me,
Until a woman,
Commented something small,
That annoyed me.
In the subconscious,
My patience was hydrogen—-
In flames easily.
I lunged at her,
Digging my fingers in her hair,
Brought her skull back,
Smashed it on cement,
Once, twice, thrice,
Her eyes spun back each time.
I exhaled relieved once she limpened.
No one had noticed when I gazed up,
Her head now a bread ball when I gazed down,
I kicked it away,
Watched it roll through the hills,
So the citrus orange horizon swallowed it,
Puritanic folk will gasp,
Enforce on the victim:
“Violence is never the answer”,
But then stammer when I ask,
“How to seek justice,
When you’re cornered,
Imprisoned?”
An engineer with a literary heart, Alicia Krasner is currently studying General Engineering
and English Literature at Harvey Mudd College. She is passionate about the future of
renewable energy and will begin her career in the solar industry post-graduation, with a
future sights set on an MFA. Alicia’s multidisciplinary approach is reflected in her accolades,
which range from being a ‘PianoSlam 13’ champion to a finalist for the Gould Center’s
‘Illuminating Imagination.’ Her creative voice has also been published in the Agave Review.
