Apple pie. Bumble sweet. She is fucking the girl on the porch, against the wood stacks, splinters stabbing her flesh, beyond control. What a way to eat hot fruit on a cold day, the blue sky killing you with all of its love. What a way to menstruate! What a way to glean! The wood stacks sit fixed beneath them, a solid pile, dry and chopped. She climbs on top. A catnap, she calls it. A what is left behind. A shake a pillow from.