Cheryl Slobod
Apple Flesh & Chives
You’ve cut yourself again
There’s another session
I was paring apples, you’ll say
But we know about denial
We know of regrets, recriminations
Wounds cut deeper than any
Small paring knife could inflict
We know of the brutal self
I will lick and kiss the cut
Bind it with soft gauze
Finish the apples, tell you a story
And you will forget—again
Until next time
a scarlet shower down the sink
I was chopping chives, you’ll say
wistfully, like spring rain
