White Apples
by Donald Hall
when my father had been dead a week
I woke
with his voice in my ear
I sat up in bed
and held my breath
and stared at the pale closed door
white apples and the taste of stone
if he called again
I would put on my coat and galoshes
From White Apples and the Taste of Stone. Copyright © 2006 by Donald Hall.
2 comments:
What an evocative piece. A sudden memory.
oh that's gorgeous. I love it.
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