Saturday, November 21, 2020

Previously Published in EgoPHobia . . .

With Apple

I become Eve to your Adam,
though you have no discernable signs
of having recently lost a rib.
I bite anyway,
pierce red skin
with foreshadowing teeth.  I hold
my breath.  You take
my hand and for a moment I wish
it had been poisoned.

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Previously Published in Epigraph . . .

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