Eve, Seducing the Apple
You extraordinary apple, Consciousness,
fall into my lap now.
Don’t let me keep thinking
how I hate apples, their pale interior
resistance, grainy piquancy,
the thickness of their skins. Fall in
to the crotch of my trunk
and let my thighs roast you
to a mush, delirious.
Fall in to vertiginous spins,
breath-sucked-in plunge of gravity,
the craved-for friction of flesh;
fall in to the mindless garden
I can promise you, tart darling:
eternity (only, temporally).
—Kathleen Winter, from Invisible Pictures, (Finishing Line Press, 2009)