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This apple still warm
hides its seeds --in my arms
stars all day calling out
helpless in the light and the sun
whose breasts are full
still listening --this apple

cut in half, then half again
as we were cradled
and the shadow still basks
never forgets where it's been

--it does no good to bury you
--the frost enters just so far
rising gray and your gravestone
whose leaves and my heart rocking
the wing bones in your back

though there's no branch, the bark
iced over --no place to rest
except the weakening in my cries
and nothing but light.

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