i
respired the alluring fragrance
listening drifted in
to that gap between breaths
watching my thoughtflow circumnavigate the
malus pumila prior to its’ being bitten

no dueling for protagonism
all is pure harmony
a dance

where mouth contours the spaces
incisors sink into the succulent flesh
sinuous the tongue swirls
in the warm inviting ambience
where the accommodating palate
is silken theatre to gratification
the taste and swallow
where each luscious morsel
is savoured
and the spirit elates divine

on reaching the core
four seeds drop into my left palm
a fifth lands as i speak

what is this fruit messaging
me?
in which codes?

had i not ever stopped to consider how
the apple feels on being bitten
or the communion that occurs
when spirit within spirit
we are one



*m.a

04/19/2010

Author's Note: morning notes on biting an apple
4-1-4 the seeds

Posted on 04/19/2010
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