Our Apple

I will put enmity between you
     and the woman,
and between your offspring and hers;
He will strike at your head,
     while you strike at his heel.  
                                                      Genesis 3:15

It is a simple apple,

worn smooth, 

irregular prominences:

 red-glowing skull

in my hand.

Yet, from the first offering

and grasping our own dingy gods,

we have been falling 

through the blight of black time

and suffering;

we have been inflicting and multiplying

our fullness of pride,

slipping off the robes 

of light,

for how many revolving nights?

Our eons waiting, listening 

for the crackling, fearsome stepping 

of our blazing Mother

through the deep rooms 

of our vast decay,

her foot of flames 

raised and poised  

above all the dark-

shining 

head of evil.