One Apple Among Many
If my
appetite matched my eye’s desire
to smell, to bite, to taste what I’ve picked
loose from a branch high over my head, I
to smell, to bite, to taste what I’ve picked
loose from a branch high over my head, I
would
hold its shape of plenty close
to my chest, hoping for a moment where
I am completely calm and able to carry
to my chest, hoping for a moment where
I am completely calm and able to carry
this
apple, cradled among many, back
to the kitchen sink without letting
it fall with certain explosion
to the kitchen sink without letting
it fall with certain explosion
onto
the orchard’s eternal grasses.
If— my whole life has wagered on
the conditional tense— what would
If— my whole life has wagered on
the conditional tense— what would
happen
if I took a bite? Would I
be closer to the man who taught me
how to dream?
be closer to the man who taught me
how to dream?
How
Do You Stop Her?
Bird
fidget— bony hand splayed open then
closed, thumb
curved in a lie: how do you stop her?
curved in a lie: how do you stop her?
She
pretends to know a great deal when
she sees it:
the box of loose baby doll parts found in Goodwill.
the box of loose baby doll parts found in Goodwill.
Stuck
eyes, smudged porcelain heads,
matted hair, limbs
akimbo, such a shame.
akimbo, such a shame.
A
puzzle that’s out of place, finds a
place on her shelf.
She’s sorting it out on Instagram.
She’s sorting it out on Instagram.
Ne’er
do well friends send her cryptic
notes that she
reads with her lips to a cold glass chardonnay.
reads with her lips to a cold glass chardonnay.
You’re
not touching this baby, she
twitters.
"One Apple Among Many" I like the ending. I think you probably would be closer. Very good poem!
ReplyDeleteA harrowing time but underscored with poetic language
ReplyDeletethat does not idealize her subjects.