Fruity

it was a simple request
from anxiety: avoid fruit
as if shame lived in its juices,
as if flavours were sins
grown in soil — dirt
to trick & 
to torment

as if my tongue
could become 
addicted to strawberries,
stained with sweetness
sullied by desire; essence
turned crimson like cherries
i longed to lick

tonight i touch, cradle
& wash red berries
ripe — ready to bite;
divinity is to taste

the only plea i hear
is for more & more & more
ruby drops melting
in my perfectly ruined mouth