After Glass-Breaking

i am sorry

you will not

live long enough

to see the cup fall

you will not see

the spiderwebbed

crinkles like fabric

on the glass pane

you will spend

two seconds wondering

the sound it will make

and the next one

hoping no one

cuts their hand

bloody on glass

shards, and you

will spend the last two

haunted by your love.

 

how did

you do it? to live

obsessed, obsessed

by the fruit

of your labors, you

spent hours on that

rickety ladder, i said

to get a new one

it is too old, and

it hurts your feet

but you clung on

as you always did

i hate you for that

you should have

put the ladder

away in the shed

let it rest, let yourself

rest and leave the apples

on the tree for someone

else to worry about

instead of trying

foolishly to catch

every single fruit

even i know

that’s impossible.

 

are you lonely

you talk of

the woodchuck

who lives by the

riverbank, who

burrows under soft

earth, was he

your only friend

he went to sleep

last winter

but he did not

come back, you

cling as you always

do, you say to me

that the woodchuck

will wake up soon

i tell you, no

the woodchuck

is not coming back

if the woodchuck

is not coming back,

you say, then who

will tell me

what it’s like

to sleep.

 

go to sleep

it is winter, and you

are talking nonsense

as usual, get down

from that ladder,

there you go, don’t

worry about that

barrel, the ladder

wedged between branches

of your apple tree

my god, i can’t

pull it out, you always

make things difficult,

old man, just

rest, your apples

are fine

you should know

that no fruit

that strikes the earth

no matter bruised

or spiked with stubble

is ever wasted

cider tastes good

with roast pork.

 

i tell you

i am sorry

the glass pane

is not broken,

only cracked

but when i go

and pick it up

it shatters over my

bloody fingers

across the hoary grass.