Forbidden fruit*

On a branch of perfect reach 

Not too tall, not too steep 

Swaying with the winds

Covered by rustling leaves

Like sheer lace over blushing skin

Tantalising

With ease 

Skin to skin

Her fingertips caress 

A smooth, cold surface 

Tender touch on tough resistance 

All she sees is a rosy hue

In the distance 

If only red could return 

Even the smallest desire  

That would be enough

For it to fall into her palm

And not be a sin

Yet why is it a sin to simply be 

Curious about good and evil

A disobedient harvest indeed

A stressful burden as it may be 

But knowledge and truth 

Surely it is more of a gift 

Than of forbidden fruit

Shouldn’t she be taught

Life outside of Eden for comparison

To fuel freedom of opinion

Over what is perfection

And is it part of the divine helicopter ride

To be overprotected from truth

Then abruptly kicked off 

With no parachute

Some say it’s an apple 

Others say it’s a pomegranate 

Frankly, I don’t think it exists 

But if it did 

I think the latter better fits the narrative

Ruby jewels, hidden compartments 

And tempting secrets 

A strenuous dissection 

And often a bloody mess

Alike divine will

A pain to access

The forbidden fruit

A bomb that reveals 

Why it’s worth her interest to question

And for us to wonder 

Whether we would want to live in 

The kind of heaven

Such a god would envision