Wednesday, May 6, 2009


An apple
red, round, supple
glistening, glowing,
shapes and shades merge and glide over this bulbous thing
called a fruit.

An apple
i am told not to touch
so i stare at it longingly. 
I watch from far because
i am not to touch.
That apple!
I long for, but i know i would not want to eat.
Bloody apple, i dont even like.
But long for
only because it is the forbidden fruit

that apple – a festering fruit
an earthly, elemental dome for maggots, squirming, swarming, 
devouring the core
why is it so forbidden
when my own core is a family of maggots,
curling comfortably,
waiting to make contact with distant relatives.


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  2. Oh my!! I remember you reading this out to me near the Old badminton courts! I miss you so much! Your poetry makes SO much more sense when you read it! Love you tons!