1d
i don't know how to process grief,
so i pick the memories,
put them in a basket,
like apples plucked from a tree.
there they'll rot, pungent and sweet,
until it ferments,
and then i'll get drunk on the memory.
the rancid cider hardly sates the thirst,
but going down it feels like pins and needles,
and my throat swells with a memory reversed.
so i pick the memories,
put them in a basket,
like apples plucked from a tree.
there they'll rot, pungent and sweet,
until it ferments,
and then i'll get drunk on the memory.
the rancid cider hardly sates the thirst,
but going down it feels like pins and needles,
and my throat swells with a memory reversed.
*tableau vivant (from French, literally, living picture)] : a depiction of a scene usually presented on a stage by silent and motionless costumed participants.
