She steps carefully over
the circle of bodies that surround her,
glutted with the ripe flesh.
Wasps murmur in the grass,
coming to life for those
not afraid of seeing.
Earth-bound with drunkenness,
heedless of the roaring blade,
waiting in the trees for its resurrection.
Concealing secrets of the soil that sustains it,
tasting line by line,
forbidden to be consumed in one sitting.
Crimson harbinger of joy, foreteller of truths,
nibbling, crisp tart words, to salivate
and satisfy her curiosity, vast and unquenchable.
As chlorophyll-laden leaves transform rays of sun
and seeds buried for doubting tongues
into nectar-filled flowers that will become
A primly wrapped promise, a ruse. A guise,
An apple is not a story,
Mystery rests in this pale delicate flesh.
An apple is more than a story,
its ripeness holds the weight,
tipping juicy balances with time.
© Dan Cafaro, 2013
Dan Cafaro is the founder and publisher of the genre-busting fiction house Atticus Books, and the weekly online journal Atticus Review, where he writes and edits the creative nonfiction column, “From the Attic.”