CEMETERY

I bought an orange
and buried it.

It was winter.
You put on the same

overstuffed coat
that I was allergic to -

maybe you wanted to
bury me, under

the picket fence
that leaned like

driftwood. I remember
where we sat

under an apple tree
in late afternoons.

If I could breathe -
I would sit beneath it and

watch the orange
swallow

leftover apple cores.



10.12.2009 ~MLS~