“and then be reckless, be reckless, and resolved in returning gratitude.”

                                                                                     Gertrude Stein

There is a cool cup in my hand held out to you 
a patent of pears and of ripe, green forgiveness
which I must only hope you will drink down, 
a down comforter for all the sleep that I have cost you

the hours unkept, the bowl of fruit smashed
by the door, spattering it with juice like blood
a pomegranate murder of the anxious mind
an offense to the goodness of your knowing me.

I took your hand, brought you up the tree
it bruised, scraped but I was still thankful you came 
I didn’t mean to cause the blood. I just wanted 
you to see the view that only I had ever seen.