by Jack Blatish

Created on: July 11, 2009

The apple cuts into four peices.

Juice lingers along the knife.

It should be sweet

But not today.

The hopes you had.

For your son,

The one.

Who has died

Fade away.

The juice is not sweet.

It's clear.

Not like his blood.

Which stains a dust track.

Far away.

Can we eat this.

I can't tonight.

You're locked away.

You look away I bet.

Out the window.

Ahead of the sun.

I'll be there tomorrow.

Knocking at your door.

We both won't sleep tonight.

But tomorrow still rises

And we must rise to meet each other.

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