Share this postOld Poem 1notebookenthusiast.substack.comCopy linkFacebookEmailNoteOtherOld Poem 1late 2022jelloMar 05, 20234Share this postOld Poem 1notebookenthusiast.substack.comCopy linkFacebookEmailNoteOtherSharestill life in the dying moonlight, applesgleaming like a chlorinated pool glittering in thesunlight, vase holds my reflection and a bunch of dead roses, equallydead features shriveled in the smooth glass to match the flowers,I wonder where this painting goes._apples cleancarved in four, skin left on.it's not a gun but rather Chekhov's knife sitting in the corner, drippingsweet lifeblood into a clear vaseand this one follows different rules—you always see the object after it's acted in the plot, so-it's okay that you didn't see where it goes._have you ever browned an apple before?this artist did, and it broke their understanding of color theory:but that's fine in the grand scheme,still four pieces, still life in them but the blade rots into oblivion andthe slices float in a dry crimson-tinted pool, like petals of our very own dead roses._responsibility is the forgivable act of brutally paring an apple with your nailless fingers.when skin is barely hanging off the flesh (of the fruit), you finallysee the apple for what it is.while the petals feasted on an overflowing vase, so starved also the four slices._the apple is a dead rose in a ceramic bowl.the dead rose is an apple in a vase._my face is carved of glass, and the reflection?still life.