right hand pointing

 
   

 

 
  Ruth Arnison

Quartered apples


 
And I’d be in the kitchen cutting an
a
p
p
le
 into quarters
 
You’d come up behind and fold me in your
arms. I’d tuck into your enveloping body
sealed with happiness
 
As I turn to the compost bin I nudge
my dream aside
 
and listen to my reality
farting and scratching on the sofa
watching rugby on the box
 

 

 

 

 




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