I read this poem over more than a few times, being surprised by it again and again. Wanting to offer something small, delicious and sweet to someone during a busy afternoon, I sent the poem to someone in need of such a thing.

The sound of Catherine Wheel‘s “Delicious” doesn’t quite go with the flow of the poem. The imagery of the lyrics certainly does, though, which I suppose is why, for the second time in a week I thought of Catherine Wheel after many years of almost never thinking of them.

“You eat, you sleep, you breathe something delicious
You spill, you grip, you squeeze something delicious
You peel, you strip, you bleed something delicious”

Beyond which, Edwin Morgan, the poet, dedicated Glaswegian that he was, deserves to be everywhere.

The Apple’s Song
–Edwin Morgan
Tap me with your finger,
rub me with your sleeve,
hold me, sniff me, peel me
curling round and round
till I burst out white and cold
from my tight red coat
and tingle in your palm

as if I’d melt and breathe
a living pomander
waiting for the minute
of joy when you lift me
to your mouth and crush me
and in taste and fragrance
I race through your head
in my dizzy dissolve.

I sit in the bowl
in my cool corner
and watch you as you pass
smoothing your apron.
Are you thirsty yet?
My eyes are shining.