Good sir, do you know
What makes spirits, ciders
Beers and Wines unique?
Terroir: the effect of the land and the clime
Rain and sun and elevation
And things that squiggle and dig
Specific to where we are
I embrace terroir
But that cider you’re enjoying
Is full of things less tangible
Blood from a cat’s last kill
The hopes of a young bride
Dashed by a crow’s mournful caw
The last gasps of a dying man
And the sweat of the wife who buried him
Come savor the notes of toffee and butter
And apple, of course apple
Crisp and sweet, or of a green so sour
It puckers the stomach, not just lips
But apples of other kinds too
The apple of my eye, buried here
When the doctors wouldn’t come
Because they don’t like what I am
Why, you’re a doctor, aren’t you?
You’ve worked this area for years
Weren’t you in town the night I sent
The boy next door to fetch help?
Didn’t you refuse to come?
That green-apple sour hides a world
Of poison or maybe just an herb
That paralyzes but doesn’t kill
I wonder what aspect you’ll bring
When I bury you next to my girl