Discord’s Golden Apple

Small god that I was, I preferred working in hearts of artichoke and heads of cabbage rather than the unstable ropes and nerves of the human spirit. I will not deny seeping sweet, tender gold into an apple’s flesh, dazzling the radishes to their roots, the peas in their jackets. But know this: I wore my apple out of love. Men asked for it with their teeth.

Brittany N. Jaekel writes from the Twin Cities, where she works as a medical writer. Her poetry has previously appeared in RHINO, Third Wednesday Magazine, Right Hand Pointing, and other places. Learn more at www.brittanynjaekel.com

A Song for Brittany