THE MARMALADE WITCH

Orange, evidently, is the new black.
Pumpkins fatten for the knife, to be carved
and then discarded; the spray-tan is back,
ditto the pompadour. Who’d have believed
it could come to this: thin skins and bitter
pith, seething in a fit of saccharine?
Bottle it up forever, the utter
strangeness of it, or let the demon in.