a small girl, incomprehensibly little

i am just a woman laying upon the

sheets waiting for

the apple 

to drop

it’s too late; your throat collapsed

almost as quickly as your heart

i can see the red of its skin

the seed swirling in the dish of my

ceiling

light

the sensation of running my

finger

along the

fruit’s skin

i can only imagine it

the way i imagine your voice

the way i imagine your chest

animated by a beat

my little bag of you

too small to hold

even one thing yet it

encompasses all that you left

behind 

why did you die when you knew -

did you know i needed a father?

have you known?

will you ever? does the

afterlife

take

requests or wishes from

daughters left

behind?