Broken Rocks

The rock that broke from the moon
has its own glow that infiltrates
the bedroom, casting shadows.
It’s that kind of night.
We lay around until hunger strikes
and from the kitchen, a honey crisp
apple balanced on the round plate.
The best way to eat it is sliced
down to the core, this one
so sweet and fresh it’s slick
under the knife and longs to be tasted.
I share it with you, my improbable lover,
bending to me in the plate’s
reflection. Moons eclipsed from other nights
are in the curtains, interrupted by thoughts
of Eve. If her apple was a honey crisp
all can be forgiven, and Sin is the name
of the way we make love tonight.
It’s still a surprise, how easily I settle
into your rhythm as if you are the glow
and I the shadow rising to greet you.

Kristy Snedden is a trauma therapist and poet and artist whose work has been widely published online and in print. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart and for Best of the Net. She creates poetry and art because it is the most fun she has ever had. www.kristysnedden.com