Forgotten Eve

Hear this modern Eve,

where the apple slices sharp

the wax drowns new wicks

swallowing the knife of words,

watch a candle cut to flame,


choaked, a blessing came

with an absence of honey;

uttered without tune

where weary throats broke quavers

on past moons, hope a sliver.


Antonia Sara Zenkevitch

an apple tree, branches stooping, apples on the grass below.
Photo by Kaboompics .com on