Golden Apple

[artemisdart]

Golden Apple

Little apple, little tree
you're a young fire burning.
Question-marked near my heart,
cheeks sleep-flushed, your pink
starfish hands pat, mash, slap
my breasts for food, fingers flared.
Years of regrets burn clean away.
 
Little tree, little apple
you're a green stem springing.
Sky eyes, shy smiles, curly willow lashes.
You suck away the sour, leave me scoured
clear, clean black earth so rich with joy.

Little apple, little bean,
you're a magic sprout singing in my arms,
in my eyes. A mother-daughter pattern,
one in two. You rearrange me, milk,
honey you.