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By April Pradhan


Incisors break the freckled weathered skin, taut from the sun


An all consuming act, eating an apple is,


Slowly strip away the red flesh,


To find a milky meat,


What a treat,


Avoid the bruises and scars, as your tongue explores the surface as to determine where the next place of skin and enamel will break,


Dribbles of saccharine juice run, streams, down sides,


Muscles find the rhythm of the softened syncopation,


Just like riding a bike,


Avoid the seeds,


The black ones will grow in your stomach,


Continue gnawing, until the clutching contractions become raw with fatigue,


Just left is the core, ribbed with lines of quick decision and bitter seeds,

Thrown away to a forgotten wastebasket.