written after a prompt from David Bonta’s morning porch.


I find a conjoined apple in the fridge
behind an empty jar of ketchup.

Where did it come from? Is it one or two?
I think of couplings that mark life,

joy and sorrow, of course
but also life and death, inseparable.

Things are not things without other things.
No surface is cleaned without dirtying another.

Also: bread and butter, olives in dry martinis
babies and diapers; or marriage, like the cleavage

that joins two breasts. One is lost
without the other, as all splendor is laced

with suffering, these are also
conjoined twins, unyielding.


This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s