a poetry e-zine

 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Wendy Merry
Only take what we can carry

In Spanish you have each year of your life,

             tiene mucho anos,

as though each an apple, breaking

from burlap. He has 23, she only 5.

Poor thing, this one is doubled

over with a load that looks nearly seven dozen.

I’ve thought backwards on how many seeds

this gives us each, how many eager bites.

I have little blood left, she says,

pushing her cart. No tiene sangre.

Her face says: I might have refused these last,

             (but who refuses the sweet?)

While las manzanas don their most divine red

and hands are placed at 3 and 10,

she is still reaching;

            Mio dios. Mine.

And with gentle splintering

a fruit wagon ends its climb.

 

Wendy Merry is a poet and writer from California. Her work has been published within multiple editions of Dossier Journal as well as the Huffington Post, Arts and Culture. She curently lives and writes in New York where she oversees a collective of street artists.

Copyright 2012  Chantarelle's Notebook