1.

 Succulently sugared Annas tucked in snuggly against a peck
of blushing Empires who, in turn, are fitted alongside
Grannies, sharp-tongued, in their tight, tart skins;
Gravensteins & Northern Spies push forward bright-
bosomed & rosy-cheeked while Winter Bananas wallow
in their amber-lemon syrup which will never fully explain
the glow on the soft skins worn by Golden Russets, odoriferous
to be certain, brushed over with girlishly cream-coated flesh;
the Hawkeyes & Pipins & Winesaps, gentlemen from two
centuries past, so wise, say some, far beyond their age,
have now turned into the naughtiest, the plumpest slices
for pie fillings then they are joined by the polished, intoxicating
Gordons & peck on peck of sprightly Permains thrown in alongside
a bushel of Black Spurs, their sugary tones so radiantly fulsome, so… 

2.

Asleep: in
their one
ripe season,
apples are
packed in
tightly &
tucked
in straw,
in crates,
in the cold
cellar, safe
& silent,
sleeping
away their
days un-
til they’re
summoned
to the kitchen up-
stairs to serve
the Mistress’s
sweet purpose.