A DAY LIKE AN APPLE
Pick me a day
like an apple from a tree
pluck it from out of the night
start with a sunrise and weather
we may or may not approve of
that bears resemblance to a season.
The sun will spend the day performing its arc across the sky as
during this day we eat, perspire, breathe, piss, slough off skin
as hearts pump blood in the living while the dead stay dead
In your life or mine there may or may not be lovemaking.
death, birth (while all around us birth, death, lovemaking)
we give this day no special day, as we do not
name an apple before we eat it, after we eat it,
as we give no name to the day of our birth (which we have
forgotten) or the day of our death (which
we do not believe in).
This day not yesterday, this day not tomorrow,
on this day she left me or did not leave me
on this day my body moved with glistening control
or stumbled in weakness, confused by disease
A day made up of wind and laughter, sparrows and kisses,
streets and memories, wine and prayer, children and yawning,
money and cooking and then
the sun sets without a cue from us and the day
ends at an undetermined point with
no score, no conclusion,
swallowed by the night and we sleep expectant of
another day to be picked
like an apple from a tree.