The Apple

A woman who says she is

your sister knocks on your door

with a basket of apples

on her arm. She remembers you,

she says, from before,

from another time when things

were very different, both of you

so young when all of it happened, all of it

so long ago. She’s ready now, she says.

The circle could be unbroken

if only you

would do

what Jesus would do.

And I brought you these,

she says, feeling around

in the basket of apples for the roundest

reddest shiniest one. Go ahead,

she says. Take it. Take a bite.

Just one bite and swallow

and it can all

be put right.