The grapefruit tree

        The grapefruit tree

        on a damp side of the house

        where mortar frets

        stink of fallen fruit

        the nose cannot get quite right.

        Rind of Christmas cooking past

        brewed soft and green

        nutmeg

                     ginger

        wet night climbing claws.

        Leaf after leaf laid down

        where shadows steam

                                            and smell

        from half chewed

        yellow cups.

        A possum’s eye

                                  sips

        at the moon

        the recipe is ripe with stars.

These poems are from my new collection IN THE APRICOT DARKNESS (view the cover and contents below in my recent posts). They are now being published individually, daily under 'recent posts' on my blog and will be available shortly as an eBook that can be read online or downloaded for free.