it all started with Adam's Apple:
he choked on youth
the bit of bone took hormonal therapy
and green of envy
to turn away

and the leaf was a single edge
with no third dimension
in the efforts to cure
a malady of complexion

it all continued with the dance of fruit trees
shaking melons in the wind
collecting the sweet sap
of rain

sliding across her barren skin
pale as polished rib cage
and sternum
as hollow as the words
spoken to the bereaved families
into the sewing machine

the repairs to the pressure points
are a delicate application of spider silk
and kaddisfly wings
allowing her to glide over the short distances
of tangled tree limbs

but she can't circumvent the exodus
the apple slid down Adam's esophagus
and the bit of bone captured
locked into place

the bit of green, never seen again
except upon the coroner's table
resembling now
a malformed spinal cord

the orphaned seeds are trapped - unable to
take root

so they thread their tendrils up
through the soft pallet
and press into the subconcious

as the apple rots: so do her emotions
after all -- nothing is eternal
even the hills of her thighs
give way to gravity and erosion
and slip into unforeseen
apathy

this is full disclosure of everything