BARRY CALLAGHAN
man of letters
MEDIA: TRANSLATOR
He Loved a Floating Apple
He loved a floating apple in the night.
Treeless, twigless,
he loved a floating apple tree in the night,
rootless, branches weighing down the night.
And the whole earth, afloat in the night,
not tethered to anyone.
He loved darkness that didn’t disappear
as he woke again
but kept a distance, unseen
and then, as the sun set, drew near.
He saw someone approaching,
emerging from the dark, merging into dark again.