Fruit Poem by Margy Crumb

this year has been picking treasured things-
right off of the tree-
and taking bites out of them.

and so the floor is littered with the cores
of those abstract things
that i said i loved so much that
it made the universe stop-
and say
'really? '

and now my room
is swarmed with flies.

but rest assured-
i've been digging through the rot for the seeds,
and when the clock strikes midnight,
i'm taking my things back.