Her Explanation
(for m.)
I am the daughter of original sin.
Eve, she bit the apple
and the details of truth were lost.
What the books do not tell you,
what the men do not wish you to know, is
we enjoy our knowledge.
The exile from Man’s Paradise
opened our minds to the world.
The apple was sweet, and tart, and crisp
warmed by the sun.
And when Eve held it in her palm
the feel of it’s perfection delighted her.
The hum of bees and birds were her dinner music.
I am the daughter of her sin, eater of apples,
the orchard nipper
who steals into your garden at night
to pick only the best, most red, the
most tender fleshed delights.
I eat of this fruit and with it
comes freedom from those ideals
you try to trap me in.
I know you will not sleep tonight
knowing this truth, you in your
practical Catholic ways.
You being the woman who refuses knowledge
and lost her apples to me.
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