The Apple

In summer twilight

she dangled upside down

in an apple tree outside the church.

Her legs wrapped around a thin branch.

Green fruit hung all around her.

Leaves beginning to yellow.

We were late for my friend’s wedding

that she didn’t want to attend.

I asked her to climb down but she refused.

“I’ll just wait here and you come get me when it’s over.

I promise I’ll go to the reception,” she said.

Then she picked a small green apple from a tree an extended it to me.

“I promise,” she said.

I took the apple. “You have to take a bite,” she said.

So I did. Sour and seedy.

Three weeks later she broke up with me on a Starbucks patio.

She said she couldn’t go against her father’s wishes.