The fruit’s mud dribbles down my skin
Like the blood of a helpless
Animal.
I rest my knife upon its pit
Its soul used like a lever,
Sliceable.
Wedges form from its soft-haired flesh
In accordance with my will,
Pliable.
In the dull swish of steel through pulp
I recalled something holy,
Imaginal.
Back when
My trust
Was in
The Church
I would joke, the forbidden fruit must have been
A grapefruit
Since life was so bitter.
But now
I think
That when
Adam and Eve bit into that
fruit
Their teeth met the hard pit of a
nectarine
I suckle the blood off my claws.
Delicately pick up the
Stone.
Wondering t'ward the holiness
Of holding soul in hand. I
Atone,
For all that's left — pulp pit clasped
Putamen on keratin,
Alone.
And then I throw it in the compost.
Fuck you Stygian Blue I can do white text too!!!