I share an apple
with Enid, both of
us taking a bite
after the other,
wiping off juices
from our chins with hands,
enjoying moments
of the juiciness.
I see by her eyes
that she's been crying,
probably the fact
her old man beat her
as he's done before.
But I say nothing;
she'll tell me in time.
Meanwhile we just eat,
sitting on the grass
in front of Banks House,
half term so no school,
and I see her smile,
apple juice dripping.
We like latter day
Adam and Eve, we
sharing an apple
as they may have done.