eating apples

some things are hard to swallow
thirty years believing
nothing was going down
all that ending
in daily chitchat
about nonsense

my grandfather
after his stroke
begging for ice
me not knowing
which was compassion
giving in or denying him

immune tonic
so vile I shake
each time I take a swig
sitting there on the shelf
through my coughing spell
an open challenge
I’m not ready to meet

the orange pills
that let me run
and keep my sight
but claimed my gut instead

our sweet son
grimacing at an apple
refusing to obey
his need to please

oh as antidote
to all the bitter herbs
stored in my little chest
I’m gonna chew on pine needles
and Old Man’s Beard
swallow big draughts
of sun and snow
wash them all down
with muddy meltwater
and the strong tea of tannin
make my own tincture
of silence and time
wait for the healing to come