All of the apples have been pulled clean from my branches,
left to fester with wasps. Every part of me is losing crispness.
The rosy welts are cheeks getting shinier and shinier, sweat
appearing as sheen. I taste sharp because that’s the truth of fruit
without organic pupillage. If I’m squeezed, no facility
will take my juice. All biological content is incinerated.
I am not allowed in New Zealand. Customs officials
require an explanation of my appearance. There’s no trust
when it comes to apples because of Eve. My tissue is rotting.
I am getting soft – hold me gently. Remember, this is how
the ecosystem should be. Yes, today we lose everything.
Find a quiet place to live. Nurture my seeds, wait for me.