[identity profile] aimlesswanderer.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] greatpoetry







My Sister, Who Died Young, Takes Up the Task
by Jon Pineda

A basket of apples brown in our kitchen,
their warm scent is the scent of ripening,

and my sister, entering the room quietly,
takes a seat at the table, takes up the task

of peeling slowly away the blemished skins,
even half-rotten ones are salvaged carefully.

She makes sure to carve out the mealy flesh.
For this, I am grateful. I explain, this elegy

would love to save everything. She smiles at me,
and before long, the empty bowl she uses fills,

domed with thin slices she brushes into
the mouth of a steaming pot on the stove.

What can I do? I ask finally. Nothing,
she says, let me finish this one thing alone.

Date: 2009-03-26 04:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] concinne.livejournal.com
I glanced over this, liked it. Then corrected a terrible habit and read the title. It shifted for me so nicely.

Date: 2009-03-26 05:17 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] missparker.livejournal.com
this one always hits me where it hurts.

Date: 2009-03-26 07:08 am (UTC)

Date: 2009-03-26 03:14 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] meiousei.livejournal.com
I've always loved this poem. Thanks for posting it.

Date: 2009-03-27 04:16 pm (UTC)

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