Spoiler Alert

A poem by Michelle Aucoin Wait.

2021

Months--Poetry
Poetry

en-US

text

Michelle A Wait_Spoiler Alert.jpg
Michelle A Wait_Spoiler Alert.pdf

Copyright protected by Michelle Aucoin Wait. Use of materials from this collection beyond the exceptions provided for in the Fair Use and Educational Use clauses of the U.S. Copyright Law may violate federal law. Permission to publish or reproduce is required.

Note on transcription: This transcription may not reflect the poetic form established by the poet. Please refer to the PDF file of this poem available in the Files section for proper formatting.

Spoiler Alert

The apple in this poem is not a metaphor for Eve
in the garden. She won’t sit naked staring, 
wondering if her children will make the most
of her sacrifice. In this poem, the apple
is just a tart fruit abandoned by its squad
in the fruit bowl. It doesn’t matter if she
is a waxy red, soft-speckled yellow, or green
with envy. When you read this poem,
you should slice an apple in nice fat chunks,
take bites that spill out the mouth.
Don’t wipe the delicious juice dripping down
your chin. Be one with the apple. Sit in her bowl,
quietly imagine a delicious brunch filled with fresh cream,
fluffy pancakes, and avocados for omelets.
Toss your head back and cackle
as the oranges are offered up for mimosas.
Laugh so hard that the bowl rolls, tips on its axis,
but does not spill. Hung over and alone,
write poems about Eve, knowing,
and how you wish you could be more like Lilith—
on top of the world.