Feast Of
by Lauren K. Carlson
anger, like you can sink teeth into, candy apple,
like one part indulgent and two-part sour,
like certain to spoil if left out,
like to the core—impaled,
like hand-held,
like admirable under cellophane
like wish you had sweet, wish you didn’t have sticky
like leave its glaze on everything,
like how hard and good it is to make clean,
like that pure green-skin fruit,
like whole, underneath—
