still life w/o apples

don't tell me this is a tree
when it is a birthday cake.
i know a delicious fist when i see one.
let's go down to the dollar store and
buy a shot gun. let's take a boat
out into the kitchen sink
& hunt for sharks. your mother
was a prophet & so we put her
in a pickle jar to show at family reunions.
pretending to drink from a red solo cup. 
the t-rex rules apply here.
hold your breath. do not move
& the seeds will not open &
we will not have to weed the garden all year.
sometimes i fantasize about 
getting into oil painting. about filling
a bowl with skulls & painting them instead
as oranges or grapefruit. don't get me wrong
i have eaten apples core & all. i have 
swallowed arsenic. i have dances 
on the back of a knitting needle
while it became a weapon. they say 
the devil is in the debit card or was it
the details? saying are just mundane spells.
don't answer the door if there's a knock
in the middle of the night. it might be
an apple tree begging to be captured.
they are more trouble than they're worth.
instead, i take out my iphone camera 
to check if the centipedes on the wall
are a hallucination or a texture.
i take a picture & the phone dies. i guess i
won't ever know. you can chose 
to not paint them too. you can fill the bowl
with fruit & skip the apples. birth of portals.
what is left out is a place to walk through.
this is how i was born. this is how i
walked into my gender
 like an onion onto a cutting board.