Issuu on Google+

Apple Pie Moan Benjamin Lowenkron

The train hasn’t run since the hurricane I walk the tracks beneath the tide sweat and trash

stagnant water

laps against refrigerators tombstones up & down the block

Louisiana bakes I climb the levee’s crust rise above bubbling rot I need to sink my teeth in to what simmers beneath the drooling sun Bone River sheds

her dirty

banks one leg at a time down your street

lined with pyres these were your trees

I used to be happy with a whiff of apple pie cooling in your window

once you wiped the rim of the plate and let me lick the juice off your finger the scent on my breath lasted all day 1

I reach your house darkness to a dark eye the last rays of twilight empty sill I sit beneath the edge and wait while night falls on the back of my neck the rising moon slices the sky all around me

hungry strays begin to howl


applie pie moan