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  • Carly Feinman

Day 54- 11.9.20


I’ve never seen anything like it


It appeared like an apparition

as I was walking along,

counting the each yellow leaf

below my feet.

With not a single leaf

on the whole damn tree,

each branch stubbornly clung

to a handful of fruit,

to a small handful of a sort of

prickly fruit I’d have imagined

(if I saw it out of context

say, on the grocery shelf)

came from a deep, creaky cave

where only the howls of

lost souls are heard

swirling round and round.


But no, these fruit

like ancient stones

appeared before me

like the burning bush resurrected,

however reluctantly.


With branches reaching nowhere,

with branches like veiny hands

wearing inappropriate amounts

of jewelry, it’s shark fingernails

clawed at the hovering sky,

at the pink-eyed setting sun.





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