Andrew David Dalby
She is the sacred fruit that connects to images of reason,
Yet she also spirals out in waves of sensual temptation;
And her pleasure -rich and ruddy- is very welcome here.
At first glance, she is an apple
But she is so much more than that.
For Lucifer spools; and with his such soft subtle thrusts,
He begs us to question: -exactly- who it is that we trust.
And as the snake slowly circles, its penetration close,
Is it really our innocence that we have lost,
Or, are we -as always- merely fools on an errand?
I take her in my hands,
I embrace her entire
For from here and from here, such life resides!
so I gnaw I chomp I break through with one scrunch
Into the firm yet fleshy fruit, that stings my senses,
and finally slakes my ardent appetite.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
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