The Coordinates of Fallen Apples
When I was your age
We watched them build sand castles
Spires of puerile love and care
We glazed their work with seashells
Not knowing they would be toppled
To hide dead roaches and the night before
When I was your age
We wanted to keep them young
Believers of Santa and the stork
We told them lies about conception
Not knowing they’d have their own to conceal
That are too airy to hide a growing stomach
When I was your age
We walked on suburban fossils
The handprints of children that dried in concrete
We scraped our feet over the date and name
Not knowing they would soon be obituaries filled
With blood and calcium from curbing
When I was your age
We balanced on the cusp of reality
Too afraid to acknowledge the future
We were bucked off by our own children
So son, daughter, now that you have some to raise
Are you going to let the apples fall close to the tree?
We watched them build sand castles
Spires of puerile love and care
We glazed their work with seashells
Not knowing they would be toppled
To hide dead roaches and the night before
When I was your age
We wanted to keep them young
Believers of Santa and the stork
We told them lies about conception
Not knowing they’d have their own to conceal
That are too airy to hide a growing stomach
When I was your age
We walked on suburban fossils
The handprints of children that dried in concrete
We scraped our feet over the date and name
Not knowing they would soon be obituaries filled
With blood and calcium from curbing
When I was your age
We balanced on the cusp of reality
Too afraid to acknowledge the future
We were bucked off by our own children
So son, daughter, now that you have some to raise
Are you going to let the apples fall close to the tree?