by Louise DeVito Strang
Unable to enjoy
That which I’ve picked
And hoped for us, alone.
This time together we would sit
With apple perched upon a plate
Sly secret smiles before we ate
Partaking each our share ’tween sips of wine.
I needed you along with me
To revel in the purity of skin
That’s crisp, fresh juicy flesh
Beneath the shine.
For days and weeks in apple’s stead
I plied my plate with simple bread.
Nothing more sustained my wait but
Hints of dearly savored tastes
From meager fantasies of me
In fuller future states.
Still, on the table
Down the stem
Around the core
And at its end
The apple shrank
Succumbing to a withering within.
Unable to endure the wait
Unable to preserve the blush
Beset by bits of mold and wrinkled lines
Our apple fell to dullness destined
To replace in time its shine as well as
Long held dreams of mine.
From the book Two Spirits Here
Louise is one of several editors for Filtered Through Time (Fall 2012), an anthology of works about the effects of the Civil War compiled by S. R. Lee. She is currently writing Canine Complaints, a humorous and philosophical take on the musings of her animal companion, Arthur Todd. You can reach Louise at TwoSpiritsHere@aol.com.