To be fit for display on the Tree of Knowledge
A fruit’s skin must rouse you, yet signal danger
A certain jungle fruit would never make the grade
More enticing to monkeys than to temptresses
A handle to be grabbed and held while eaten
An ingratiating scent, a slippery smooth heart
Simulacrum of cream that doesn’t cloy the guts
Shaped to fit the mouth, made to be stripped
Of the clown suit it dyed to ape the sun’s aura
While a Greek fruit in the same sun-struck hue
Shouts its pride that it grew directly exposed
As it shimmers inside and teems with radiance
Changed to a smell that assaults the nose brightly
Elsewhere certain lawn and woodland flowers
With milky sap managing to keep their stems erect
Raise bright crowns to smile back at the sun
And surprise children when held beneath the chin
A trick to reveal something rich and fine within
Which Color? 2
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