have turned to hard green balls.
To eat them now,
so tart,
would turn my mouth inside out,
would make my stomach groan.
But in just a couple months,
after the baby is born,
those apples will be ready
and we’ll make pies
and sauce
and pudding
and dumplings
and cake
and cobbler
and have just plain apples to take to school
and slice with my pocket knife
and eat one juicy piece at a time
until my mouth is clean
and fresh
and my breath is nothing but apple.
June 1934