Apple Slices
Apple Slices
—eaten right
off the jackknife in
moons, half moons,
quarter moons and
crescents—
still
summon common
summer afternoons
I spent as my dad’s
jobsite grunt, framing
future neighbors’
houses out of 2x4s
and 4x6s,
and our
brief and silent pick-
up tailgate lunch-
box lunch breaks
of link sausage,
longhorn cheddar,
larder pickles, cold
leftover roast-beef-
and-butter sandwiches
wrapped in paper,
a couple of pippins
from the Fall Crick
Pick-n-Save, and—
flavored of tin from
the lip of the cup
of a dented thermos
passed between us—
a hard-earned share
of still-chill well
water…
Now
so many waned and
waxed moons later,
another well-paid,
well-fed, college-
bred paper-pusher, I
wonder that I’ve never
labored harder, nor
eaten better.
Poems by Todd Boss
Click to hear Todd read this poem.
Copyright 2009 by Todd Boss. All rights reserved. Reprint permission available upon request. Commissioned, first published, and broadcast in 2009 for American Public Media’s syndicated radio program, “The Splendid Table.”