The Future of Apples
by Eve Linn
Remove spurs that do not fruit,
dry wood, water sprouts, or green
wood that crosses another branch.
One rubs another, bruises bark,
causes cankers, then rots.
In gloved hand, curved
shears, wait, oiled and ready.
Dive close. Cut slant and quick.
Sever the twig, still
sap-filled, clear, juice-sweet.
A clean cut with a sharp blade
is always best. Expose the wound
to sun. To dry, to harden, to callus.
The burn pile is full of twigs
cut for good reason.
Eve F.W. Linn received her M.F.A. in Creative Writing with a Poetry Concentration from Lesley University, Low-Residency Program and her B.A. cum laude in Studio Art from Smith College. She lives and writes west of Boston with her family. She enjoys fiber arts, photography, strong coffee, and dark chocolate, and dislikes small salty fish.