You saw to it with the apples,
You told me to read it in the books,
I realized it when the cat died,
his stilled and bruised body
bearing the marks of that rabied dog.
Did you know, the edges to which
The frissures spilled into
The gaps you left,
the holes I filled?
Ineptly, judiciously, knowledgably,
And yet, by no means with love.
Nothing magnanimous, nothing, nothing, truly nothing
Omnipotence, the lack of which was present
Only the pain I swallowed, quietened,
Raven-like, ravenous, ruptured, but never ravishingly so,
like the wind on the empty street
Where we stood, under the umbrella,
Until the very rain we were avoiding whizzed
under us, playfully
whooshing through, gushing through,
Wrapping around our laughter, an orchestra
Oh were you there?
Were you really there, that night, that night on that street?
did you notice the bagpipes, the vexing xylophone-like noises
That confused our senses?
That captured our zeal
The very zest, that
We lost after the apple?