1. One bright gorgeous day
She worked in the Garden.
A neighbour popped over
With a basket of fruit.
They settled down
On the blanket of grass.
They filled up the silence
With some pratter and chatter
Then reached for the basket.
“Are you sure it’s not…?”
“Would I ever? You think?”
“I’m sorry” - she looked down.
“Unless you might want to try it”.
“I heard it feels good.”
“Wisdom usually does.”
She thought, hesitating,
Then dug in the basket
And lifted the Fruit out.
A scaly hand patted her on the back.
“The first time, - the guest whispered,
-Is always a trip.”
“I feel like a virgin, -
She laughed, still unsure.
“Illegal isn’t my game”, -
She put the thing down.
The neighbour seemed hurt.
“It’s expensive, you know.”
“You’re right, what could
Possibly happen to me?”
She smelled it.
Smelling was legal.
As one who abandons all doubt,
She peered around,
Glanced way up, up to the sky…
Then sunk her teeth
Deep, deep in that fruit.
The sky was cast over,
Away from the weeping woman
A snake slithered home.
2. One day, walking home,
She saw a man injured.
An arm in filthy bandages
Hung limp by his side.
Gross green flies
Were buzzing all over.
His head hung
All the way to his chest.
Her kind heart trembled.
She ripped her clothes
Reminiscent of mourning
And wrapped up the wound.
A drink of some water,
A brush and a comb,
Some cake from the market.
He looked like he’d live.
“What else can I give you?”
“Nothing… only maybe a kiss”
She shrugged, and turned to go.
“I was kidding, m’lady.”
“Feel better.”
“Don’t think me a beggar.
I’ve been injured in war.
We fought a brave battle,
And took home some spoils.
May I present you with a token,
A small gift from the man
You’ve stooped down to save?”
“You needn’t thank me,
It’s really fine.”
He pulled out a kerchief
With a fruit wrapped inside.
“It’s magic, m’lady.
A fruit like no other,
Knowledge and power,
Eternal youth and attraction.”
Deep in thought,
All the way home,
To her husband and children,
She carried the kerchief,
Thanking the man in her mind.
3. The toothless old hag
Smiled a wide grin.
The wrinkles crisscrossed
stretched and knitted
A map of wise cunning.
Long white hair hung down.
A customer’s steps
Stopped right at her door.
She shuddered and entered.
A dry rabbit’s paw
Hit her right on the nose.
An owl hooted
Announcing her step.
“A love potion, my dear?
How can I help a sweet maiden?”
“No, it’s something…
Else.”
“A bun in the oven
You do not wish to bake?”
“You knew? How?”
“Of course. A witch always knows.”
“Do others… need this?”
“Look at the path
Leading up to my home.
Would you think
It has trampled itself?”
“But how would I know…
For next time?”
“For next time,
My sweet maiden,
You grow some wisdom.
And here’s your potion.”
The witch fumbled
In the sack hanging over.
A scaly hand
Dropped an apple
In the maiden’s shaking hand.
Some (not too many)
Months after
The wide in the hips maiden
Was rocking a baby
Who'd murder his brother,
In a world born of knowing,
Conceived and delivered
Into wisdom with agony,
Cursing her mentor,
As an owl
Flew laughing past.
4. His hand
On her breast,
Her head
On his chest.
Created together,
Embracing forever,
Souls reflecting,
Joined in perfection,
They worked on the land
In the baby-new world.
She was stoking the fire,
Stirring coals with sticks,
Laying out flat pieces of dough
Adding some garlic,
Olive oil a’plenty.
He was due to come home.
A woman’s shadow
Towered over,
Eclipsing horizons,
A hissing voice in her ears.
A face of chiseled stone,
Raven-black hair,
A thin line of lips.
A foot in leather slippers
Kicked the coals, upsetting
The pot and the supper,
The man’s evening meal.
“What’s “before”?
I am afraid I don’t know.”
The angry female
Spat and turned to go,
Rocking her hips
Bracelets ringing a tune,
The wings of an owl
Seemed to grow from her back.
Eve ran to the river,
Forgetting the dough.
A wide fleshy nose,
Strands of hair in her eyes,
“The arms of a chimp,
And no colour at all.”
She scraped her skin clean,
Mixing soap with tears,
Bitter shame of her nakedness
Unadorned and oh so simple,
Was hers to bear forever.
Unseeing, she stumbled
Her middle feeling empty,
All the way to the forest,
Where the holy tree stood.
The fruit stung her hands,
The boils bursting open.
She wished for oblivion,
And savoured the fire.
Walking home in her heels,
Bracelets ringing on her arms,
She remembered her pained sister,
Who tasted temptation
In the world that was before.
In her hand, the fruit glistened.
“If you love me,
You will have it with me.”
