an apple
        sits by my window
        for 300 years

 
        one day a woman
        takes a bite and
        a flock of birds
        takes off

 
        it becomes wine
        for a monk or the beginning
        of an orchard

 
        its life is yours
        but has happened as
        if in translation

 
        a few steps
        from the vertebrate
        before you ever
        really got to

 
        eat that
        apple.

         -

        this apple
        might scent your
        grandmother's skin
        at her wake

 
        nervously you
        memorize your furniture
        as if each piece were a
        passenger

 
        on some final
        voyage west, straight
        into the sunset
        of your imagination

 
        the corners
        we most live
        in crumble

 
        alas some places
        are too small
        for apples.

         -

        once in holland
        I saw a painting
        of an apple

 
        now some nights
        I hang myself on the
        wall like a painting
        and wait

 
        for a power
        greater than
        sleep to take
        me to my