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.