I can keep seasons like secrets
Alice Cattley is a writer based in Cambridge, where she studied English at university. Her poetry has previously been published by The Cadaverine and read on BBC Radio 3. Since graduating, she has worked as a copywriter and journalist but is now a freelance writer while she works on her first novel.
The apple tree has grown old early. Autumn arrives
like a migraine, blazing. I have known this shuddering,
this rain-quake of branches balancing fruit. Soon
the tree will give up its armful and I will gather
apples tender as fingertips, skinning them green
for the pan. It’s always an act of remembrance –
ceremony of cinnamon and ginger, Kilner jars opened
and closed. I can keep seasons like secrets. I have learnt
that hunger tastes of apple prised from pitted hearts.
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