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— Gloria Muñoz

to survive;
more precisely,
to overlive.

Can we look
at a photograph without
overliving? By default

we scoff at the photo’s
two-dimensional edges:
a 70-year-old

grapefruit tree
in Thonotosassa.
Feel the heft

of each fruit hanging—
engorged moons
in sepia. This tree

will outlive us,
offering only
its aftertaste:

the tang we keep
blistering under
our tongues, reserved

for when something
baffles: tree rings,
the ocean inside

each slice, even
the collective. Until now
I’ve used we in most stanzas,

but suddenly here I am,
peeling pith
from my own fingertips.

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