#64 Apple Picking


I made love out of letters

Beginning with “R”


Then piled them up in a basket

And called it “our poem.”


Sat watching the meaning hang

Itself and fall with a thump


I had nothing really more

to go off of, but all the


Rotten apples leaving

sweet smells from faraway-


Gave me reason to peer into a different light

and notice the precarious end of branches


How high up you are

Before –


There are bruises where we left

Them just leave that there.



Pick up my open hands, remark

Why are we always hungry?


The bright ones ruin our jaws

spitting apple juice by accident


Laughing that our stomachs

hurt in a healthy way


Love is a decision, glorious tasting

I didn’t even need a ladder to


Reach between those hidden things

called leaves.


You just happened beside me

like two seasons.




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