Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Six 2004 |
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 |