Why does nothing rhyme with orange?
It’s not as though we’d singled it out on purpose, saying,
“That piece of citrus fruit is so unique, its color so unrivaled,
that nothing else should be allowed to sound the way it does.”
No defect in the fruit, or in the color, is repulsive enough
to keep it all alone, without company.
There are rhymes for everything about an orange,
from the tree you see to the peel you feel.
We rhyme its taste and waste, its juice and use, the seeds it needs,
even its place in the rainbow.
Taken all together, then,
what is so very un-poetic about an orange?