JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

sometimes I feel

like a man in a fruit market

rows upon rows to wander

 

he’d been waiting for me

as I chose firm tomatoes, rosy apples

a quick sleight of his hand

adds a large blemished fruit

 

when you are born you don’t remember

places you’ve been

you take whatever is offered

 

later, looking in a mirror

you might wonder

about before and after

maybe you wish you could change things

but we can’t, can we?

 

so that

when skies whirl

fruit after fruit after fruit

and the fields, houses, the trees

shout and tumble colors at you

 

you could cry to the heavens

or scream with joy, remembering

rows upon rows upon rows

 

you could even cut off your ear