How To Grow An Apple
open the earth
let the brown seed fall
let the gypsy moths
be gypsy moths
even before they are born
let the old women's eyes bloom
like daisies
fingers lift like lashes
like the caterpillar
sliver of light
against the tree's hollow
thick with dew
let the child hide
beneath the folding table
fearing she too
will be changed
let the child hold joy as
sorrow in her mouth
let her learn even here how
to grow an apple
her toes buried in lemongrass
in the sound of sirens
and dominoes
voices rising beside her
head like cicadas
undressing on the grey
willow bark
like the moss green stamps
like the subway tokens
like the weight of wings
between her fingers
like butterflies
like ghosts
in the cigarette air behind
the bodega
let nothing be grown in her
that does not
die first
open the earth.
First published in Fresh Out Magazine, November 2024.
Deborah A. Bennett is an Illinois-based poet whose work has most recently appeared in Wales Haiku Journal, Heron's Nest and Africa Haiku Network's Mamba Journal.
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