Laid out and painted up
I was surprised to see them there
Looking cold and out of place
-- My breath caught in my throat.
It was dislodged by a
Who had come to stand next to me.
That the cashews in CVS
Came from the glass fruit
Impaled under the glass pane.
And that (maybe) the real fruit could be eaten.
I was grateful for the intrusion. Respectfully
I told her that
I had known the deceased personally
I wasn’t there at the birth
But I saw how it lived
Too tall to climb into
But slinging its fruit down low enough for a child.
The fruit – how can I explain it? –
Could be eaten. But it
Clung to your lips like a stain.
My grandfather overcame that obstacle by stewing it in mountains of sugar
It was sweet enough to eat your teeth.
I was there when he died
A Simple Move
Eyes turned dull as painted glass
Breath stopped in his throat.