Apple Poem by Bob and Alex Eichen

he takes a bite
puts the cold green apple
on the glass table
and leaves, shuts the door hard

sunlight streams through the open window
painting rainbow flashes on the pearl meat
brilliant and perfect in the morning

the apple died
its soggy, wrinkled corpse crying sugar on the glass

what I didn't tell you:
about the side opposite the bite:
there was a cut made in the apple
shaped like a heart
but rotten anyway