Apple Tree

In a country garden I would like to be the apple tree

Reposed in solid euphoria

Breathing deeply in an orchard

*

Stretching longs limbs into the solemn soil

Caked in heavy earth but with my hair

Floating on the air above

*

Tousled in a wholesome beauty

Whimsical in bloom

Serious as fuck in yield

Flirting quietly in the eerie wind: a flower girl in workman boots

*

My tarty half-spent fruits in the ruffled canopy of my skirt

Giggling ‘Pick me!’ even as they lie on their backs

Squinting at the sun

*

Catching the rain with my tongue and

The red heat on my pink cheeks

With my zest and my scent and all my warm promises

Grounded in strength

*

And when I flash a wink at Mr. Kipling

– filled with years of juicy contemplation-

He would never be quite sure

If I was being sweet

or

If I meant for him to taste me

~*~


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Filed under Mumbo Life, Mumbo Obsessions, Mumbo poems, Uncategorized

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