Tin Roof by Hiram Larew

Tin Roof
When I was 17
           apples were busheled in baskets —
           and I was the straw under those red round spirits
All the light coming in
            was planked and slanted across them
            and every wasp in the world
            hovered just above them.
Whatever apples were
            I wanted to be.
            And in a way
When I was 17
           apples ate me —
What was to become my heart
           was only some wild weedy row in a orchard out back.
And any sheen reflecting off their skins or the barn’s tin roof
             was all that I wanted to be.
When I was 17
           with every seed buried deep inside
           even my gangly gaze was humming.
And somehow I knew before tasting anything
            tartly sweet
            that that was what I wanted to be
            right there
            in the baskets.
Hiram Larew is a global hunger specialist.  His poems have appeared recently in The New Ulster, Lunaris Review, Voices Israel,Hedge Apple, and Contemporary American Voices.  His fourth collection, Undone, was published in 2018 by FootHills Publishing.  On Facebook at Hiram Larew, Poet and at Poetry X Hunger.

One comment

  1. My comment won’t adequately tell how much I enjoyed and am impressed with your poem, Hiram. I’m awed, so need to return to it in a few days to re-read it. I am sure I will be mightily impressed again.


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