processing

crab-apples bubble on the stove.

pink dappled wafer skins peel back like pages of a book
juices brim over apple-eyes.
-a pitch-black blossom spins atop the foam.

white pithy flesh gives out whimpering to the heat
and opens its tight fists to sour nectars
sprung from sodden root.

rosy-cheeked, I pour this stuff-
sugared, stirred, breathed over-
into the dimpled jars

kettled steam covers all.
I think I shall write a poem now.