Photo by Cristy Zinn on Unsplash
the tree was good for food, and pleasant
to the eyes, a tree to be desired
to make one wise, she took
of the fruit thereof, and did eat,
and gave also unto her husband
with her; and he also did eat.
You told me not to and I did, not
spiting you but proving me
now I am dancing skin in the falling
evening under branches spinning
aching full begging taste
of sweet and heavy fruit. I tasted I
licked juice rolling down my wrist
missed watched it kiss my thigh,
a moisture meteor exploding
on a field of skin. Where
are the repercussions, the Thing
to Fear as we were warned?
Where is the shrapnel? It is I
embedded in sky’s flesh
born to be consumed. Fragmented,
we will scatter in sunclipse behind
horizon cloaked in twilight
not for sin, but to conceal
the light within now we are new
to earth as earth is new to us.
We’ll sow a garden of our own
in our children’s world and grow.
Jericho Hockett's roots are in the farm in Kansas, and she blooms in Topeka with Eddy, Evelynn, and Bastion. She is a poet, social psychologist, teacher, forever student, and dreamer, most whole in the green. Her works are always brewing.