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Pome
From flowering gnarled（多节的，粗糙的） trees
they come, weighing down
the branches, dropping
with a soft sound onto
the loamy（肥沃的） ground. Falling
and fallen. That's a pome.
Common as an apple. Or
more rare. A quince（柑橘） or pear.
A knife paring away soft skin
And deeper in, five seeds in a core
are there to make more pomes（梨果）.
Look how it fits in my hand.
What to do? What to do?
I could give it to you.
Or leave it on the table
with a note both true and untrue:
Ceci n'est pas un poème.
I could paint it as a still life,
a small window of light
in the top right corner
a place to peer in and watch it
change and darken as pomes will do.
O I remember days. . . .
Climbing the branches of a tree
ripe and heavy with pomes.
Taking whatever I wanted.
There were always enough then.
Always enough.
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