The core

It’s in every

photograph.

Symbolically,

the apple core

had more appeal

than a horse

or a heart,

I’d say because

it reminded me

of the stars

that were taken away

while I wasn't looking,

my unseen pointers,

those five signs

lost, scattered.

Yet vertically intact

the feminine form

retained its seeds –

better this way round,

though it required

patience.

There was time.

Those childhood

summers were too long

anyway, meant

dreaming of the day

I would hold

me whole

and bring home

white blossom

was all there was.

First published in Silver Birch Press, “Me, As A Child Poetry Series”, 28 May 2015.