Two Poems, by Jonathan Aibel
Childhood’s Back Yard
Disheveled, rangy, I could climb
the apple tree that bloomed obsessively
when days warmed and as summer cooled
dropped small bug-eaten fruit
by the hundreds, smelling like pie,
a mulch of apple flesh, fermenting,
the buzz of drunken wasps a pretty music
warning of the impossibility
of getting close.
Jonathan B. Aibel is a recovering software engineer who lives in Concord, MA, traditional homelands of the Nipmuc. His poems have been published, or will soon appear, in Chautauqua, Pangyrus, Lily Poetry Review, Cider Press Review, and elsewhere. http://www.jbaibelpoet.com.