Garden Fruit
by and published in Edition One of Pomegranate
We had a fruitless cherry-tree,
maybe two years ago, but
its leaves blocked our Sky-TV
and the ants were far too fond
of the overflowing, sticky
rivulets of sap. We lost a
fruitful bramble-bush, blackberry
and thorns and all, to a hedgecutter,
a little out-of control, not sorry
for our loss, our lack of summer-salad.
And now we come finally,
to the piece-de-resistance,
the humble-hunchback appletree.
It bowed its neck so low so wide,
it stands so sure, unquestionably
the garden centre-point. Every other
year we pick the bitter-but-juicy,
children from its arms. Cut out
the fly-spawn, the cankers, free
the pips, fear for the year after next,
as the crop grows sparse, slowly,
our humble-hunchback producer
may collapse and recede, lastly,
and we shall have a fruitless garden,
and the fly wasp bumble-bee,
will certainly unquestionably
be slightly sad and maybe angry
that accidentally, unfortunately
our garden (no-longer-fruity)
seems strikingly less homely.
Callan Davies
Callan Davies comes from the wilds of darkest Kent, Medway specifically, where we are given to understand wild dragons are constantly roaming which he makes it his business to boldly slay (split infinitive! – Ed) for the benefit of the proletariat. He is currently in his second-year at Exeter University, where he studies English.