Oranges On The Door

Just down the road
is a house where
an old woman lives.
Usually a plastic bag 
hangs on the outside
of the door.
Someone leaves it for her
and
it always has a couple of pieces of fruit
or vegetables
in it.
Today it contains two oranges 
and it’s swinging 
in the wind
like a pair of giant testicles
I imagine the front door cracking open,
her thin white arm reaches out
to grab that bag,
she squeezes it
and for a moment it reminds her
of her dead husband
resting in the ground,
how she used to squeeze his balls
when he was alive,
when they were young.