Angela Gabrielle Fabunan
Featured image: untitled © Kelsey Walsh 2019


the fruit trees are in bloom again,
signaling the end of spring. they were
too young and too old to fall, like
these fruits that drop from branches,
small, tender & withered, shriveled.
they both fell. he fell like a dew drop,
misty on a flower, gently, gently. he
knew the right words to say, always.
she fell straight down, thudding
on the tall grass, leaving a mark.
she knew what was unsaid was better
than all words combined. a couple
conducts an argument: how all drama
starts with a nitpick, a detail. how words
sting, penetrate. how they hurt,
but pretend to be stone. how stones
fall on the ground, only to be picked up
over again endlessly by each other, how
this is hard work. how soon, the ground
will be covered by snow—it will be winter.