You think my parts
are superfluous: you want
only what you want—nothing
more. First the pruning then
the thinning. I swallow the sun
into the opaqueness of the earth,
ignoring that you intended
for it to sweeten my fruit: but
I would never expose that part
of myself to you. Early morning
the coldness is a sign
that the days are growing
shorter; my apple can only be
tasted in the darkness
of your mouth.