This fruit
is
not
your free lunch,Adam.
Lord it all
you want in this lawless Eden,your crowing courtiers
egging you on.
This ripest fruit is sadder
than a phial of gall
on your pampered palate. See her proud pedigree,
with Mother Helen looking on from on high!
Rein in, then,this unruly pike of macho roue,
for hushed entreaties, and febrile frills of the small hours
are now deafening titbits of cruisers.
If forbidden reads the fruit in the garden,pay no heed
to sly loin. For beyond the hallowed gates,fiery seraphs bear
flaming brands to incinerate crazed prigs of desire.
• Chris Anyokwu, authored this poem with the title Natasha.
