Far From the Tree



When Apple first fell

from the Tree, she bobbed

along on her sea

of forgetfulness,

oblivious to

the bruises on her

backside, pockets of

pus hidden by a

polished red skin. She

named her world Stunning,

and made plans to suit.


Tucked in the shadow

of those gnarled roots, her

gnarled senses labelled

sickly vapours ‘air’,


‘bed’, insect-breeding

swamp ‘home’. Belonging

lulled feelings into

a caricature

of the love she read

about in novels.


But the day she rolled

outside canopy

limits, beyond the

reach of Eden’s bite,

sun-seared retinas

peeled the picture bare –

twisted trunk and sour

fruit and warped world-view

became as glaring

as raw contusions.


Now she rolls, rolls, rolls,

far from the madding

shroud, far from the reach

of branches carved like

talons from deformed,

wormy wood. Far from

the Tree, in a patch

of pure light on grass

greener than life, she

sows a single seed.



Testy Toddler

Fruit-ling in a diaper-wrap

on sweetly liquid diet

Taking toddling baby steps

Suspiciously, too quiet

Bee-bottle fed and velvet-wrapped

In springtime sunshine dappled

If you would just consent to nap

You’d be less crabby-appled!

This is for all the parents out there who lived through the terrible twos…You’d inwardly complain about their noise at times – but the silence was SO much worse!  🙂   It was a lot of fun to imagine apple blossoms as toddlers.