the lemon tree

i crouched behind a white
curtain. it danced around me,
tangled me in its hands. the
floor on which i stood snarled at
the sunlight staining its face,
groaning beneath my feet.
but i knew i couldn't fall through.

i peeked through the open window,
watching blades of grass flutter.
among them was a lemon tree,
waving at clouds with new leaves.
it looked around, rustled lullabies
and danced as a man in black came to
trim its branches.

i knew this man.
his footsteps, hard and loud,
smashed the whimpering grass and
shook the trunk of this tree.
he raised his eyes to the budding blossoms
hiding beneath the leaves. his hand reached
and snatched a yellow fruit with violent grip.

i gasped and cursed this man in black as
he plucked the fruit from the tree. it yelped
as its branches sprung up and down and
the man cackled, throwing his head back as the
fruit landed with a thud.
it spattered, spitting caustic tears and searing
the white drapes i'd cloaked myself in.

i shifted and the ruined curtain
fell to shreds around me and
i finally saw the truth.
the floor cried out and i cried out as
my world fell through the cracks.