strange fruits – title poem

September 17th, 2011 § 0 comments

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Strange Fruits
Blackberries shrivel on Cellar Hill
though a few late blooms defy the new order:
bletted plums usurped by ripening pears.

A kestrel hovers over the orchard,
the gate staked by an estate agent’s board.
Cobnuts lie scattered like popcorn on the turning

to Lynsted Lane, by the houses that first broke
through the earth in the spring, now de-scaffolded,
exhaling steam through plastic heating vents.

And strange fruits hang in the hedgerow,
Stella cans, a Co-operative bakery wrapper
with orange sticker, reduced to 40p.

Maria McCarthy

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