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Monday, 8 June 2009


Instinctively my fingers are outstretched,
poised to touch the rosiest apple
to tear the fruit from the loom
to feed my appetite for curiosity.
I take,
I eat.
It's flesh is bittersweet
it's bite tastes of my decay
the liquor of knowledge, a thorough depressant
trickles from my tainted lips.
My sin falls from my hand
and lies on Eden's jewelled floor
Oh I am awash with gluttonous guilt
stolen innocence,
now I am living on borrowed evil.

© 2009 Florence Challender