Arsenic Lobster poetry journal        Issue Six   2004
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White Apple
Dennis Saleh

The cow with a hole in its side listens,
the new baby is crossing a road.
Where they’ve put ground he steps
lightly: one tree, a long row of vineyard,
one belt whirring “grapes, grapes, grapes”.

Every night he takes steps inside.
Night comes up and casts a moon
out in front of the baby, and he is like
a scrubbed piece of moon, light in dark
as a future comes up out of the ground.

Men in lizard skins have gone on
a long way before him, leaving milk.
They went on into time but they
saw a hunger making milk,
Stars are shining. Food is shining.

Now anchors hold morning
underneath the earth.
in a chill grey of faint dawn
the new baby stirs. He is a white apple
broken loose falling a long way.


About Dennis Saleh

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