Vatsyayan
(India)
The Mouth of an Apple Prince
We picked the apples.
We were thugs.
We had scythes in our hands.
And we chained the apple prince.
Sweet, soft flesh, dewed with youth…….
We had our forks ready.
The prince pleaded.
But we were hungry.
Sunlight dripped from his forehead,
like pure, divine sweat.
And we opened his mouth forcibly,
To shove our sword of fire…..
And then, suddenly, there was an explosion.
Thick like semen, warm love gushed out.
In his tears sparkled stars.
Apple skin wept. And something bloomed.
The fiery sword melted in water.
Inside his mouth, there was a tumbledown altar.
And we saw Aphrodite.
She wove roses.
And then, the entrails led to other landscapes….
Warm wheat fields, scarecrows, and roads to Light.
At last we reached the secret hole,
And the forest ended in peace.
After the rivers and the seas, we saw Aphrodite
Again…… and the altar…..redder than blood……