by Christos Kalli
Artwork, “Journey” by Sloane Adler
Eve’s apple: succulent, soaked in rebellion,
dappled with opportunity. Waters
the dry mouth. Swells the eyes until
they escape their sockets, become the brain,
& are soon as tall as a chapel.
A winged thing. A thing of impatience, makes
knees shiver until the eve of freedom. Even the days
become hours. The hours minutes. The minutes
seconds, until seconds are no longer time.
Freedom comes & is sweet. Sweeter
than a nectarine. The streets look like
unread, open pages & are waiting for unsteady wheels,
& the possibility of becoming steady, steadily.