Subduction Zone

The people formed an apple
and made a snake from jade,

creating a myth that they forgot
quickly was a myth, and then

forgetting the myth itself.
Spring, the herons were flying,

great and blue around the city.
Or was one a kite?

It seemed to have a string
connected to the earth.

The father swore yes, the mother
not, and their daughters

thought it was a real bird holding
a string, to take to make a nest

or just a find, uncertain.
They stepped over the dead snake

brighter than any body should be
as they walked the road in the evening.

Spring, the price of apples
was rising but still a favorite.

I knew someone who ate the core,
stem, seeds, and all, the mother remembered,

but she couldn’t recall who, or when,
and had never asked why. They agreed

that seemed like overkill. All she asked:
they eat to the core, and the skin.