Fruit-farm owner,
an impotent shadow stalking
beneath his floppy canvas hat

My fourteenth summer
spent between the canes,
awkwardly avoiding prickles
to reach the juiciest fruits

Unsuitably dressed,
vulnerable to the attentions
of both the courted sun's rays
and jealous raspberry thorns:
I got stung!

Suddenly, silently
he would appear,
passing like
an unwanted rain cloud
across the entrance
to the fruit cage

I felt a chill

The storm broke later
dark and ominous
in the barn
as I offered my fruit
for payment

Stealthily from behind
I felt his touch,
a disembodied hand
ghost-like upon my breast

Like an encounter
with the shadow of death
I could prove nothing -

It was just a suggestion
just a hint -
like someone walking
over my grave

But it cost me dear
and I departed...

In pieces