Poem Of The Day: "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

1 comment:

  1. Sorry for the lack of poetry posts. I've been sick and then went out of town. I'm going to make up for the lost posts in the next few days.