Neurosis Poem by Winston T. Gylles

Yesterday I bought a firm red apple
today, when I cut it in quarters
I found the heart rotted out
and I wondered
what neurosis had so affected this fruit
had it been unhappy on the tree
or had being picked been traumatic
or was it being with all the others in the bin
had it felt violated by my poking
was the affliction born in the bloom
had it crept in along the stem

or greater still
was it some sterner warning
for me
to continue slicing my apples
not eat them whole
as in my youth