Leavings

Under the apple tree, she said
Show me and though we
both were barely
eight, we knew right but I
complied, unzipped and pried
at the elastic band and like
a joke store gag it
sprang, lolled and struck
my belly with a thump, a bent
stick on a pale toy drum
and she laughed, hands
masking her tearing eyes
while I looked down at fallen
fruit, green and bruised, soon
rotten