One the brink of dark I have you in my hand -
hard green vivid thing. I'd forgotten
how fast air tarnishes your flesh,,

the arsenal of knives spoons rolling pins
it took to sugar and stew you into submission,
how sparing ou are of your sweetness. Miser,

or bankrupt, everything gone
on frivolous blossom. Organic by default,
for who would bother

to shower you with gifts. Orphan,
shucked into wet grass by a feckless tree,
my grey-skies cold-wind hard-times bad-news apple.

With know-how I'd almost forgotten
I'll make comfort food of you. I'll tuck you
in buttery blankets. First, we pare a curlicue.

By Katherine Duffy