The apple is gone.
It departed today in the wake
of Gonzalo’s sting.
The sting in the tail
of a hurricane that
should never have touched our shores.
And so the symbol
of tenacious life
no longer bears witness
to my own tenacity:
my own survival in an
irresolute world
now seeks another yardstick
on which to pin a shaky faith.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
The apple is gone.
It departed today in the wake
of Gonzalo’s sting.
The sting in the tail
of a hurricane that
should never have touched our shores.
And so the symbol
of tenacious life
no longer bears witness
to my own tenacity:
my own survival in an
irresolute world
now seeks another yardstick
on which to pin a shaky faith.
This is the sequel to my poem The Last Apple.
Request permission to use this poem