"Apple"

Apples in my skirt

I come to you

And tempt you with the fruit


Choose your goddess


Crisp voiced,

A cruel little tartness.

A shiny tight skin reflecting

The dragon coiled ‘round the tree

And Hercules, holding up the sky.


Here is the despair of seven

For their queen in enchanted death;

Here the marksman’s arrow

And pure aim.


Teacher, I present it to you

I pray, not too green

Lest again I find myself

Writing appleappleapple over my heartache.