Everyone was licking someone’s hands
at the party so I thought of you and
squeezed an orange, still thinking of you,
of what happened when you entered a room,
what happened in the places you inhabited.
I turned to my friend to say
I wish I had been more of a slut, because
I knew it would make her laugh, and because
I knew it was true, and the orange
transformed into a sticky rind and the ants
went to work tasting the thought of you
in their pincers. Otherwise,
it was something more gory, more
satisfying, but not knowing where to go
next, I left the party.
Caroline O'Connor Thomas is the author of Fourth Trimester, now available from The Economy Press. Her poetry has appeared in Colorado Review, Sixth Finch, Ghost Proposal and other publications. Her full-length collection Night Person was a finalist for the 2025 Interim Test Site Prize. Her first chapbook, Unusual Light Source is available from White Stag Publishing. She lives in Portland, OR with her husband & son.