Friday, June 22, 2012

Of Things Cursed

Temptation dangles like a serpent
In an idle, slothful mind
The fruit gleams, sweet upon the tree
As to its vice we're blind
We long to reach and pluck it
Taste its sugar-coated dread
But its afterglow would haunt us
Like vile ghosts inside our head
While the thing that seemed so lovely
Is a curs-ed, empty shell
And the fruit that promised heaven
But a tragic glimpse of hell
For the well of carnal thirsting
Is a void nothing can quench
As the harvest of our tasting
Bears the fruit of consequence

© Janet Martin

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