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
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