Still Fruit, with Life

Wow, how the honey claws
of the little wicker basket
on my countertop all this last week
carried lots of fruit for me to take with,
in the silence of a house not quite awake,
on the long, lightless way to work,
with the scales of a dream
descending, still falling from my eyes;
there were two plums
and a little cloud of grapes in there.
Also, there was a small cabal of bananas,
which, by Friday morning,
became, simply, one final banana
with the shadows all grown into it;
how those spots appeared in the peel,
seemingly at the same rate of speed
as the getaway car to work
my dreams were last seen in.

About the Author
Rich Boucher: A past member of five national poetry slam teams (Worcester, Mass. (x2), Washington, D.C., Wilmington, Del. and Albuquerque, N.M.), Rich has published four chapbooks of poetry and for seven years hosted an open reading and slam in Newark, Delaware. Since moving to Albuquerque in March of 2008, Rich has been performing and writing steadily in the Duke City, and is a regular contributor/editor at Living day to day with physical abnormalities caused by the consumption of Monsanto’s supercorn, Rich is also an educator, adventurer and an unlicensed psychic. Rich’s poems have appeared in Adobe Walls: An Anthology of New Mexico Poetry, Fickle Muses, The Rag, The Malpais Review, Menagerie, Clutching at Straws, Shot Glass Journal, Mutant Root, The Mas Tequila Review, Borderline and The Legendary. Hear some of his poems at