Dictionary

Gnarled boughs droop moody and low and
yet good fruit does bloom.

They’re scattered helter skelter
about among the over ripe and under grown.
Pick a piece off
with a twist of the wrist
and grip it
too hard
in your palm.

Hold it up with the sun on your face
and through squinting eyes behold:

‘sad’.

Sighing, shrugging, let it roll
from your hand
down your fingers
to fall with a thud in the turf beside

‘happy’ and ‘good’ and ‘mad’.

Reach out again you never can tell and
feel ‘round with eyes tight shut.

Grab and burst! Pulp and juice run
down your freckled arm for clutched is

‘Parsimonious’,

fermented beyond taste for all but a few.

Wrinkle your nose, shake out your hand and
wipe it clean on faded jeans.

Climb! Climb! Until you are standing at the swaying top
grinning down at the orchard beneath.

Sweat beads and you
scratch, smiling, beet red, hale and hungry.

Beside you, then, you lay your hand
and finger pads skim with electric shock
your perfect nosh.

Bite into its dense, honeyed flesh
and swallow down to
fluff and fill your stomach.’’

With smacking lips throw its core so your
shoulder joint aches and with a sticky smile

never full
explore.

Dictionary

Bonnie Walker

Joined July 2008

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A poem.

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