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I am still Eve.
I lie beneath the apple tree.
The fruit is ripe,
lands readily in my open palm.
As you approach, I hand you three
to juggle and to play with me
this game of falling.
There is no serpent,
until you bring one with you..
It slithers up
along my inner thigh.
It feels red and sweet.
I bite into your juicy kiss.
This is the sin I have chosen as my own...
This is the sin I have chosen as my own.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousalmost 14 years agoIrish Angel is a very talented poet, evoking both a mystery & eroticism in her Saphho-like poems.
