Golden Apples edit 2

[Animal Riots Activist]

Golden Apples

The night before last winter fell,
I was pondering over an unwritten tale on my desk  ----------I like the conversational tone that comes from this line. It's a nice way to start out.
when a gust of wind rattled our rooftop.  ----------the "our" here detracts from the actual subject of the poem (which is her/death). It makes me wonder who our entails, and I don't see that serving a purpose anywhere else. I would prefer a "my" instead.
I stepped outside to see the damage, but instead 
saw death speeding low over the town, 
her cloak reeking of orange blossoms.

Curious, I gathered my book and pen,  ----------a true poet. going out to follow death. grab first aid? nahh. just book and pen. Love it.
and, after locking the door,
followed her course through the clouds.
The streets were empty that night,  ----------the inaction in this line grates against the rest of this stanza, which has movement (at least subtly) in every line.
as if all but I knew her business then,
and a soft dirge fell from the heavens
like a box being lowered into the grave.
So the thought came: was I her mark?

Filled with fear, I slowed my steps,
and quickened my pulse. But then,  ----------how does one go about intentionally quickening their pulse? Not saying I don't like it, it just stands out. I would play around with 'my pulse quickened' instead if you haven't already.
a girl's scream shot through the silence
like the fateful first seedling of spring,  ----------line seems a tad overwrought to me.
and I ran to the source, relieved, excited.

Near the town plaza, Mrs. Miller's son 
had fallen from Judy Bennett's window 
when a gust of wind pushed him off.  ----------This is clearly the crux of the poem, but by how its written so matter-of-fact it doesn't feel like it. Maybe that's a good thing?
His scattered brains looked like a sower's mess.
Moments ago, he was busy comparing
Judy's blond hair to an orange's zest,
her ripe breasts to the oily rind,
and her moist cunt to the plump and juicy flesh.  ----------Gotta have the T&A. It fits great, really nice work.

----------actually you know what, I like the dichotomy between the matter of fact crux and the T&A afterwards, it works well as a unit.

A dutiful neighbor, I offered the girl
a few vain sympathies, then left
swiftly, as death did.
And when I reached my door, I found
that I had forgotten my key;
it wouldn't be until the dawn
that I would get back to my desk.
Lucky I'd brought my book and pen.

----------I'm not 100% on the title, but I think overall this poem accomplishes what you set out to accomplish.