death in the orchard

blood on the veins
based in the roots
black on the tree
carved out last summer
in hearts and names
letters and dates
bare branched
naked
missing leaves
a stranger lights the night
with a cigarette strung
to twilight
he puppets himself to the thought
of trees
and leaves
lights
memories
cascading down from the last star
a heart carved out
the blood pours out
the last thing he sees
but one last piece of fruit
ripe and gorgeous
red apple
black.