Tiny White Flowers

Tiny White Flowers

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Nighttime Page, 11 Feb. 09

It's late, and it's been a long time since I've written.  I managed to send out one chapbook mss. today, and one poetry contest entry to the Florida Review.  I'd determined to get back to my normal submitting self, and hopefully reclaim my writing-more-often self, too.

Here's a poem for today:

Fallen Apples 
by Tom Hansen

Wasps at work in the soft 
flesh of rotting apples. 
Food of the gods, 
all day they mine it in busy 
hushed movements.

I pick up a mushy corpse 
one cold morning. 
Carefully turn it over. 
Its congregation tumbles 
into the cupped 
bowl of my hand.

Dazed, drunk, still 
chilled from overnight cold, 
they blunder like sleepwalkers 
feeling around for the light. 
Tiny antennae test my skin 
in search of something 
now gone.

Warmed by my hand, 
warmed by the sun, 
they stagger and fall into flight. 
They scribble orbits 
the air erases
and whine at last out of sight.

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