Eve, Seducing the Apple

You extraordinary apple, Consciousness,
fall into my lap now.

Don't let me keep thinking
how I hate apples, their pale interior

resistance, grainy piquancy,
iconographic innocence,

the thickness of their skins. Fall in
to the crotch of my trunk

and let my thighs roast you
to a mush, delirious.

Fall in to vertiginous spins,
breath-sucked-in plunge of gravity,

the craved-for friction of flesh;
fall in to the mindless garden

I can promise you, tart darling:
eternity (only, temporally).

Copyright © 2009 Kathleen Winter All rights reserved
from Invisible Pictures
Finishing Line Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission