Summer 2010

Table of Contents - Vol. VI, No. 2


Poetry    Fiction    Reviews   

Michael T. Young



I bite into my apple sucking its bittersweet meat,
its conflicting crunch and burst, and I think
how I envy those who can live by their obsession,
like Glenn Gould humming into the microphone,
lingering over each note of the Goldberg Variations
as though this one he now plays
is the only thing in the world, pure and bursting,
while I sit by a window beyond which is a tapestry
of green-brown leaf and limb that suddenly explodes
with a streak of yellow wings — two birds? two butterflies?
I run to the window to catch a glimpse more,
but don’t, and turn back, resigned to my apple,
biting again into its flesh, savoring the sweetness,
and savoring the bitterness that bites back.


© Michael T. Young



Poetry    Fiction    Reviews   

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