Saturday, February 4, 2012


“Crab-apple Juice” ©
Mike Absalom December
31st 2011.

There’s still enough juice in the old
crab-apple
for a gullop or two of scrumpy,
but who to drink it with now?
Since parts of me began to drop off
I have been careful to abandon
the careless abandon of my springtime
when we hitched up Motorways out of our
minds
and drank ourselves into the unknown,
silly on thin air and laughter.

Your news came to me,
triple filtered and sour
years later.
You must have been old
when you died.
I only remember you young.

Now you are stretched out for ever
on the faded candlewick of a cheap motel
holding me as a mummy holds on to life
And we listen uncomprehending
to the alarum of sparrows
that has broken our day.

The years have shrivelled away like old fruit
and now they scatter further
like dry leaves in the wind.
Just like us, dear.
Still, there’s enough juice in this old
crab-apple
For a mug or two of scrumpy with somebody.
Surely?

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