You refused to leave until the apple was ripe.
I took a bite
and we sat down and by the time it was brown
I wasn't angry anymore.
I think in the kitchen you saw me slouch,
I think you saw me turn young
for a second when the wind blew in a smell
from the outside trees
through the window that had been jammed shut for years.
And instead you left when you looked at me
and realized you weren't in the room.
Friday, December 24, 2010
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