Canvas

I saw him by the frozen peas

and felt the hinge of my jaw go tight.

It’s easy to live on your knees

when you remember the end of the light.

The apple I bit had a bitter skin,

sending a spark through the bone,

reminding me how the floor came in

to meet me when I was alone.

My palm still remembers the grit,

the salt and the gray urban sand,

the way that the concrete would fit

in the hollowed-out cup of my hand.