Apples

It's said that if you skin
a midnight apple on All Hallows Eve
(all in a piece) and throw it, wishing,
behind you (mocking your foolish gullibility)
it reveals (by letter) lover, future; gravity's trick.

Tonight, deft, rhythmic thumb and wrist
guide and turn a life beneath the knife.
Wishing cuts and pares, skin twists;
children, friends, home, lover, wife,
a falling helix.

The pithy slough completed
No miracle initiaties his name upon the floor,
(did you expect it?) There's just a life dissected,
small, glossy possibilities left rattling in my fist.