PEELING APPLES SOMEWHERE IN 1914
the War not yet
a week old
already tears that will last years
she can still see
his pale hands
peeling apple after apple
the apples
looking startled
**** beside their skins
the naked apples
the flamenco swirl of their skins
his hands pale as death
now where the apples lay
that day
the telegram of his death
she can still see him
turning into the shadows
throwing her an apple with a smile
she is angry with him
for dying
her love not enough to protect him
under her apron
the baby kicks
it will have his smile
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
PEELING APPLES SOMEWHERE IN 1914
the War not yet
a week old
already tears that will last years
she can still see
his pale hands
peeling apple after apple
the apples
looking startled
**** beside their skins
the naked apples
the flamenco swirl of their skins
his hands pale as death
now where the apples lay
that day
the telegram of his death
she can still see him
turning into the shadows
throwing her an apple with a smile
she is angry with him
for dying
her love not enough to protect him
under her apron
the baby kicks
it will have his smile
