11:4: “Apple”, by Holly R. Appling

11:4: “Apple”, by Holly R. Appling
  Moon’s angelic twin an old man in the sea —
  His lashes are chromatic
  And brow hawkish, peacock scales

Swill at hands and feet, at ear fin peaks.
He is a drowned revolutionary guard,
One shoulder already coral —

He circuits an apple tree sprout
After the last wreckage.
Violet fish schools rattle its watery leaves…

A virtual tide moves his lung —
He coughs like a sick bird,
Rough cough, soot and beetles shoot out.

Mute sunset bends afternoon’s blue into current —
Ocean purrs its crest to a nebulas
Bloodless fist — twilight floodlights

Illuminate a strange palm and glass claws.
An other-worldly talon
Entwines with a star’s quiet spiral. The drain plugs —

Shadow hurtles to earth
As a raven’s blade wing descends
Into warm abdomen. A half-eaten apple

Bobs at the water’s surface.

Holly R. Appling lives in Canada. Her poems have appeared in QWERTY, Carousel, Leaf Press, WEIRDYEAR, Jabberwocky, Aphelion, The Scarlet Sound and The River Journal. Others will be upcoming in nycBigCityLit and The Round. She says:

Regarding the inspiration for the poem, I am hesitant to make an attempt to explain this as I think we each see what we see when we look at the world, related to our own sensibilities and frames of reference and experience. I would be more interested to learn what others may see in the work.

Illustration is “Apples and Leaves” by Ilya Repin, 1879, and is in the public domain.

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