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"Picking Apples" by Marie-Andrée Auclair

Green orbs plumped up and mellowed to a red flush:

Some apples nestling in the grass of the corral are ready.

The worms knew, who tasted them first,

as did the horse who chewed a green apple and spat,

picked a redder one, dripped juice.

At end of day I sit on the front steps.

The horse stares at me over the fence

like I am a thief.

My penknife that never mended a quill

pares quartered apples

brings worms out to the light of dusk.


Marie-Andrée Auclair’s poems have found homes in several print and online publications in Canada, where she lives, and other countries, most recently in Acta Victoriana (Canada); 34 Orchard (USA); The Frogmore Papers (UK) and Tokyo Poetry Journal (Japan). She enjoys writing (of course), photography, traveling and adding to her cooking repertoire after each trip.

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