Aftermath

Aftermath

I pause basket in hand,

what forest is this?

Lost memories?

No

I think my own are bitter melons

but mine.

I drift looking for the one fruit

an unclaimed memory of my sister

forgotten in the aftermath of arguments.

I see in the distance

a row of spikes around black twig apple trees

a flash yes - this is her favorite.

I reach

I reach.

No

a whisper but my hand touches

the fruit of apple trees.

No.

But I pull and touch my lips to apple skin.

The trees sway a tingle a wind caress.

I feel grounded or is that rooted?

Shoes split

feet toes dig down down

sinking into the ground

Legs arms mold into bark.

I wonder are leaves eyes

as the forest of sighs

claims another sister.