crisp pearl apples hemorrhage
splashes of walnut wash
the decay dribbles between
my knuckles, silky
as impermanence.
how much of life is spent learning
to let go: recalling to forget
now is not the time for
mastering the art
of holding on.
how many bowls of fruit are rotting
on the wall of a museum?
Indigo Hawkins
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/still-life-21/
