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Today: Another figurative apple cup Red swatches Lines of strayed burn A bite I'll leave Can you taste it? A sort of velvet strum Coated in off key sharps Up and down, Round and quiet 'It is bitter!' My moon, It was always- So Tell me, Has the wind never Creased your cherry locks? The shores never Whispered their deaths into the sand? Four years And I'd have said the same Hiroshima Seconds and sharply, change The world isn't new A particle, a mote perhaps Says burn papers Expel the paint Try the fever 'But it is hot and cold like summer rain' Witch! Has it not come, The white? Truth in pearls Today has neve