by Lee Nash
An apple has a savor, like a man…
if only it were easier to choose.
Round here I have to purchase what I can –
besides, my pride has nothing left to lose.
Yet still I hesitate between the Cox
so finely-grained, and something more robust,
the solid Belchard winking from its box.
I know some women really can’t be fussed
but I would like to find the perfect type,
with juices to sustain me and a form
pleasing to my eye, a flesh firm and ripe.
Would it be deviation from the norm
to take a bite from each variety?
I may just risk such impropriety.
(First published in Angle, issue 8, 2016.)