Haifa Oranges

The sky is light blue or pallid
It is late afternoon
Clouds are burgundy and
The sun is a Haifa blood-orange
Picked by a Palestinian
Gnarled hands.
That was his land, but a historical
Tremor came

He has resigned; this is Allah’s will.
But his sons think otherwise,
Blood orange, one day
Blood will overflow, run down gutters
As we have another tremor that
rumbles on an everlasting family feud.