Rotten Apples

My Corner, 2008

Them.
I wanted to smash them,
like rotten apples.

WHACK --
with a mallet.

Because I,
I was a ripe tangerine,
with a bright orange peel.

Unblemished.
Sweet.
Pure.

And they,
they reminded me of
mushy and mealy things.

Old,
like God.
They were all knowing.

It must have been wonderful
to embody such wisdom.

Like Maman,
Louise’s giant spider.

But I didn’t care,
I doubted them.

And like a nasty little crab,
backed quietly into my corner.