Nadine, Nadine

by | Autumn 2022, Poetry

You spent Sunday like Christ
Licking wounds and tears
Falling limbs of an apple tree
Spoiled fruit, rotten cores
Trite little blights
Trickling sours
And munching, unfrightened deer

You were angry we made love
Crossing antlers and your frown
Heavy like a winter coat
Kept our feet from moving
Out of dawn’s frost

We fucked, your friend and I
Swapped stories and spit
Handies and smiles
He told me he wanted to film a movie

About growing up
Discovering new pockets
In old coats
Revisiting a tree
Shaking the branches
And embracing whatever falls out

I’m sorry we did that too
Embraced the past
Held it close to our chests
And exhaled it into mouths
Nadine, Nadine
I’m sorry we picked the last stubborn apple
As it tried to stay, fruitlessly
Beyond our reach
I’m sorry it tasted sweet.