From Branch to Root

By Maeve Evans

Pluck my fruits from beneath the earth

Spin them tightly on their stems

And dig half-moons into their rippling girth

For there is no beauty in unscathed gems

Reach for my fruits atop their tree

Glossed with salt and shimmering faith

Don’t they remind you of me?

Or do my lips expel too much wraith

There is freedom in flight

But here I am, and here is my dread

I close my eyes and thumb the dark in sight

There glimmers death, like a crow in my bed

Desires of mine slip under her feathers

Harboured close by ink wells and painful swells

My era of youth tangles in her tethers

Cut them loose and embrace their familiar fells

What encompasses my bones digs deep in our roots

Whilst the past rots and rinds, I’ll taste the tang of fateful fruits

By Maeve Evans