9/6/2017
I sink my teeth into a sour apple
on this relentless, dour September day.
I steadily watch the crooked clock
while seconds, minutes and hours tick away.
Bite after bite, growing contrite
I can no longer stomach
what slips and slides down my throat:
my body revolts, chides my selfish mouth.
The clock continues to tick about;
discontent and discomfort drip
from the corners of my indefatigable frown
as rain pours down
all around.
Sour Apple
by Alex Hanna ·