Apple Baseball

Out in the yard past the cherry trees Over the graves of the grass we’ve cut In the fading of the summer’s heat We step out onto the field Lining the trim, a brown barbed fence And across, the piss-stained compost pile The roses need pruning the cherries shriveled up Their succulence Mellow green apple buds are sprouting The leaves are casting their ripened glow And even some apples are strewn about the ground Rotting from the outside in Thanks to the fall from the wind On this baseball field of ours There are no bases no mound or a fence Just the handle of an axe once used for chopping wood And I’ll swing with my eyes wide open in sight Watch the apple explode up into the sky And the clouds have grown heavy with apple delight So it rains down like shrapnel into the night