This poem is taken from Stand 224, 17(4) December 2019 - February 2020.

Elaine Glover Four Poems
Two Poems by Elaine Shaver

                                 I
Don’t touch me.
You hung this smooth-skinned apple on the tree,
        And made the sun polish it.
        And rain harden the roots.
But the skin caught in my teeth, and stuck.
I know You.
Your apple made Man from innocence.
So did the serpent,
        Who caused him, unfurred animal,
        To eat intelligence.
           
You trembled at knowledge like Yours.
Driving him from the trees.
        You grew pitchforks and burdocks;
        And would bury him under the weeds.
But you lost.
I stand, the apple juice mixing with the juice of my mouth.
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