Permafrost

It was rather beautiful, somehow,
in the way that frozen time
would be beautiful:
imperfect, & yet,
like raindrops-turned-snowflakes,
the crystallization had transformed it
into something utterly
unique.

The taste was condensed, almost-
slightly fermented
like icewine,
& sweet like no
normal fruit would ever have been.

The heat of my fingers seared
gold-red mottles
into the perfect opaquegrey surface;
it was strange to me
how skin
could balance on two such extremes-
how the reaction between them would
alter something in each.

It melted slowly,
bronzing in my palm
like a woman lying in the sun,
stretched out on the sand
and shiny with sunblock.
The apple sweated for a moment,
and condensation traced long
tear marks along its curves.
Then,
with the hard thump
of consolidated molecules,
it smacked against the bottom
of the trash can.