sweating--
"It flowers," he was saying,
"It flowers," he was saying,
pushing it into my chest.
And then we were plucking apples
off trees in an orchard.
Fat trunks trembling,
off trees in an orchard.
Fat trunks trembling,
everything washed in purple,
and tiny spirals of color
pirouetting down the page.
When I closed my eyes we would stop spinning.
When I closed my eyes we would stop spinning.
The worms
in the earth,
slick and wriggling,
the texture of overripe, cherry tomatoes
between two fingers.
in the earth,
slick and wriggling,
the texture of overripe, cherry tomatoes
between two fingers.
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