White Apples
when my father had been dead a week
I woke
with his voice in my ear
I sat up in bed
and held my breath
and stared at the pale closed door
white apples and the taste of stone
if he called again
I would put on my coat and galoshes
-Donald Hall
Poem of the Month 
Ohhhhh my. How intensely wonderful and moving. It made my father’s death extremely immediate in my mind and brought me to tears.