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Apples by Danusha Laméris

One, tossed to Aphrodite,
begins a war. Eve, that fateful bite
into the crisp white skin. 
Distracted by the sight of golden apples
a virgin huntress loses a race
and must marry. Each apple
a kind of failure. The body
calling our desire. Isn't there
always something we want
more than our own happiness?
A pull toward the Fall.
Haven't we all loved too much?
Snow White bit into the flesh
laced with poison.
Love is something we fall into.
Fall, the time of ripening apples.
In England one falls pregnant.
Life requires collapse
holds it out to us
sweet and fragrant.

You can find this poem in The Moons of August.