To get to you I bit the apple
at its loveliest spot, drawing the poison
out and into me. I lay in my glass box,
neither sleeping nor swooning, neither
half empty nor half full, every nerve
edged in black like a mourning letter.
What the doves call song I call grief; but
Your charger found me first,
nosing at my coffin, transformed
from battle steed to foal by the scent
of apples. You swung the hinged lid
slowly: one last moment to fear
my heart’s desire, all my new kingdom
in your kiss.
Laura Cherry is the author of the collection Haunts (Cooper Dillon Books) and the chapbooks Two White Beds (Minerva Rising) and What We Planted (Providence Athenaeum). She co-edited the anthology Poem, Revised (Marion Street Press). Her work has been published in journals including Clementine Poetry Journal, Los Angeles Review, Cider Press Review, and Hartskill Review.