The Man Was Crying under an Apple Tree, and There Was a Cat Watching Him

It’s not that I do not want
to have this conversation again.

The orchard can be lovely
on consecutive evenings.

It’s not that I do not want

a second pair of shoes
or a second piece of shepherd’s pie.

I stay too late,
and don’t sleep well in your bed.

We are not the only fragile beings

who look absurd in red
and fear the federal government.

The trees kick light back
and forth

as if light is the idea
that will save them.

Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has a current book of prose poems: Invisible Histories. His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduit, and Cream City Review.