Orchard

I am a fruit that bares no tree

Roots that bare no branches

Organs that bare no flesh

The cold sap in my mouth cracks my molars like old church bells

Ding-Dong Ding-Dong

My ovaries are ringing a joyful song of mourning

I am uprooted

I cannot bare the thought of being barren

My seedling will never float above the wind

They will never carry my eyes, my nose, nor my indescribable cynicism

Today, I weep at bustling farmers market

Curled fingertips stroke the supple skin of shiny Fuji apples

When harvest season comes for me there will be drought

There is no abundance here

Go somewhere else to find your beautiful giggle produce

I already miss you

My lost sapling

I hope when you shine in the womb of another woman, you will grow to love me