Mary Hastilow
In the orchard
I an fruit eating fruit in the orchard forever returning
Laden with tribute sprung heavy in ripeness
Hung for the moment of ultimate weight
In tense equilibrium
Glowing, inviting willingness clean to meet skins with pure form
Nourish flesh with the flesh of fulfilment
Biting burst into succulence wounded in glee
Ragged mingling juice into juice
In the pleasure of loss
Content with intention of death to be
Cropped to the black earth core
I am fruit eating fruit in the orchard forever returning
where no-one can go with a knife.
Page(s) 24
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