You’ll be glad to know that the magnolia tree in the front yard has lived

to bloom again. Google said it wouldn’t last the winter,

especially after dad trimmed the branches when he knew he wasn’t supposed to,

but I finally took your advice and bought one of those burlap bags

and I think it’ll see another equinox.

I remember you told me that falling in love is a lot like learning to peel a clementine:

patiently and messily and falling apart in your palms with bitter pieces and sweeter juice

that turn Sunday brunches at the breakfast table the color of an orange creamsicle

I’d like to think I’m getting better at it, this whole falling in love thing

I don’t need your help writing 25 versions of the same text anymore

(actually, I might just get you to take a quick look at this one)

and I said “hi” and “how are you” before class this morning like a normal human being

and I think you’d be proud of me;

I unwrapped a clementine in a single strip today

the peel sits on my desk, unraveling and imperfect and impossibly beautiful

and maybe it’s all this talk of flowers or the Febreze hitchhiking on the tailwind of a spring cleaning

or the scent of magnolias that were never supposed to live and survived anyway

but I could swear it looks like it is blooming.

Published in the spring 2025 issue of The Stonefence Review, Dartmouth College's student-run literary magazine.