Apple-mush

“I thought we would have sausage sandwiches and this apple mush. That way we won't have to start the stove. Okay? I think there is still some cake in the cupboard.”

Sally offered her mother a spoonful of apple mush. 'I can't eat, darling. Sister understands.'

In the smell of apple-mortality which is sweet, there are tears like windfalls Dried on our cheeks; this apple-mush, these tears the real home of all, Fruit, dog, woman, lover, ceaseless waterfall and ancient house, vaporous stairs that Wait for our ascending.

We would send the boys out to pick up apples and they would almost always come back covered in apple mush after throwing the rotten ones at each other.