An apple is not a story.
Its ripeness holds the weight,
tipping juicy balances with time,
forbidden to be consumed in one sitting,
tasting line by line
nibbling, crisp tart words, to salivate
and satisfy her curiosity, vast and unquenchable.
Mystery rests in this pale delicate flesh
An apple is more than a story.
A primly wrapped promise, a ruse. A guise.
concealing secrets of the soil that sustains it
and seeds buried for doubting tongues
Coming to life for those
not afraid of seeing
Glutted with the ripe flesh,
wasps murmur in the grass.
Earth-bound with drunkenness,
heedless of the roaring blade.
waiting in the trees for its resurrection
as chlorophyll-laden leaves transform rays of sun
into nectar-filled flowers that will become
crimson harbinger of joy, foreteller of truths
She steps carefully over
the circle of bodies that surround her
© 2013-07-02 Mike Maggio,Karen Kelley,Francesca Rand,Carrie T Maison,Allison Fuentes,Barbara DeCesare,Delinda Price,Dan Cafaro,Diane T Stepro,Edward Belfar,Geoffrey D Koury,Joy Martin,Graham H Pilato,James Sears,Karin Sander,Laura S Young,Nancy Powell,Norah Vawter,Stephanie Floros,Susan Scheid,Dave Lego
