The Apple

by Marj Wyatt

The apple that you gave to me
Which you feared I had rejected
Screams in silence
From its place near my desk
Taste my sweetness!
Consume me, enjoy me, but don’t destroy me
I am so very special
I retrieve the apple from its place
Contemplating its firmness in my hand
This apple is
Like you to me
Its sweet fruit lures
And makes my mouth water
In spite of all its dark spots
Imperfections -- obvious and unexplained
The juicy reward of its freshness
Follows the crisp crash of flavor
Upon my tongue
This bitten apple regards me
From its resting place in my palm
Where your hand fits so warmly
When you are here with me
I mourn this apple
As much as I appreciate it
For, after it has been eaten, it will be gone
Only the core is left now
And, in its fragility, it breaks in two
I ponder the pieces in my hand
While I remember the pleasure of the apple’s gifts
I must have them all
And throw nothing away
So I swallow those final remnants
And let the taste of them linger for a while
Seed of Life, infinite wisdom or original sin?
The symbols of the apple
The puzzle of My Love

October 18, 2004