The Buddha Rat

The first box held tiny yellow apples
from the tree behind your home.
Now inside the vestibule
a brown box with mochi, manju,
and a persimmon
like the hearts of various creatures.
I will eat one sweet tonight, one tomorrow
and after the ripening
on the sill that corners the morning sun
as we leave for the world
I will eat the one you tended yourself:
slit it open and lick the dark halves
that nourish its oval pit—I will
suck out these plump tongues of fruit
that speak for you.