I Doth Protest Too Much, Methinks
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree
my wife chides when I’m a wee bit churlish—
Outright rude actually.
She says it, knowing
how much I hate her saying it.
It conjures images of the man
described by more than one, as the most
stressful person they have ever met.
To this I often call back weakly
I am not an apple—
I can’t even see the apple tree from where I now lie.
Yet, the pear, plum, orange, banana I was born and become
tastes a bit like apple,
the same as all flesh
tastes a bit like chicken.
Mark LaMonda is an artist and writer who lives in Santa Clarita California. His work has appeared in Painted Bride Quarterly, Lullwater Review, January House and is forthcoming in Tough Poets Review, Shadow and Sax, and South Florida Poetry Journal.
