Poetry

So, I'm finally braving it and posting a poem from this semester. It's one my professor asked me to read in class. Hopefully you all enjoy it. And if not, just don't tell me. Just kidding, critique away!


Chips of Paint

From the wall of rich trees apples thump onto unkempt grass,
green upon layer of green.

From the low-set window she watches them fall
and flinches as angry words fly from the kitchen,
shouts and bangs hanging in the air.
She plays with her tiny porcelain figurines,
wrapping herself in their world of painted-on smiles,
prim, lacy dresses and well-tailored suits.
Obedient little girls and boys.

Outside, the house paint is cracked and chipping,
showing signs of years of neglect,
but no one notices,
for the apples trees with their juicy burden
curtain the house from a pointing audience.

And she sits, staring outside at her green world,
her sunny hair sliding down the sides of her anxious face.
Each time another apple drops she watches,
knowing that the leaves will soon turn yellow and twist to the ground
and stripped of leafy flesh and fruit
the trees will bare their naked arms,
exposing the empty held within.