Not Right

The terrible month,

where your girl left,

is closing, the one

eye left is globbed

in cataracts, the plane

is about to pull

its string and smooth

to the far side. Left

here, there is blight

in the bean leaves,

the cucumber shows

a nameless disease,

every third apple

rots where the worm

left his home,

flying toward a new

year. I did not wish

to awaken you and

left you alone to watch

your mirrors, gobble

what was left of time.

I wanted a little bite

to fill and fly you, fix

what you had left.

Jared Pearce's books include Down Their Spears (Cyberwit, 2021) and The Annotated Murder of One (Aubade, 2018). Further: https://jaredpearcepoetry.weebly.com.