An Apple, a Boulder, a Mountain

With this in her hand, everything
is possible: mountains will wither
into fruit, fruit will blossom into stones,
stones will listen for their own heartbeats.
She only needs to close her fist around it
and it could nourish or kill. Somewhere
deep in the flesh, dark seeds are sleeping.
This, she thinks, is what I shall bring him.

I will say, take this from me because
it is heavy and my arm is aching. Eat it
so I may never need to carry it again.
I give it to you as an emblem of my love.
It is an apple, a boulder, a mountain.
Weigh this and you have weighed the world.

John Glenday