Spring 2007

 

 

 


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Apples are for angels
Louis Murphy

They fell
From the edge of the cliff
Reaching out
To take forbidden fruit,

            Thinking something better was in store:

            Once it was bitten into,
            Once the fury of knowledge
            Bled through their brains,

They fell
With the mourning stars’ eyes
On their wings—
So many opulent eyes

            That had told them in time without pause
            Theirs was the holy journey.

            Theirs is the separation
            Owned and won

            Angels, so envious of the modes of man,
            So terrified, so like children grown
            Old before time began,

            In their shells (the truth that living held nothing better).

fell
And I cannot blame them—
Even angels
Need faults.

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