The apple collapses

between my teeth, the sweet turned

to slop. I fold my hands, blue below

fingernail moons, into the wide smile

of my stomach. What dirty

sky, heavy with water. Clouds heap,

caught on the horizon’s teeth.

They’re fat, bluing as if to burst.

But they won’t clear. And they won’t spill.

Letitia Trent (OH)  is a graduate student at the Ohio State University. Her work has appeared in MiPOesias, 42opus, Shampoo, and The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel anthology. She is a co-editor of 21 Stars Review.