Breathless in the air
You are holding a poisoned apple
Still ripe.
Do not forsake me,
He said
And bit in.
Fell off of a tree,
The tour guide said,
Not too long ago.
I saw him with my own eyes
Drop like a ripe apple from that very branch.
Simply put,
All men are cowards,
When they get the chance.
I fell off of an apple tree,
Years ago,
And sprained my ankle.
The hospital bill was pretty bad,
But at least my mother worked at her night shift,
Which was an all-hours grocery store,
Which was really a whore house,
Which my father was gone for,
Which he knew about.
There were a lot of fights in that family,
But you didn’t ask.
I fell off of an apple tree
Filled to the brim—
Fit to bursting with ripe,
Poison apples.
I took a bite,
And fell in.
Not long after,
This boy became a man:
You’d better watch him.
Copyright 2017 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 