White Apples
By Donald Hall
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
Copyright Credit: Donald Hall, "White Apples" from White Apples and the Taste of Stone: Selected Poems, 1946-2006. Copyright © 2006 by Donald Hall. Reprinted by permission of Donald Hall.
Source: White Apples and the Taste of Stone: Selected Poems, 1946-2006 (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2006)