EATING THE APPLE

The first time
I spoon applesauce

your long shiver
makes me laugh

one bite, then
you turn away

this new flavor
not yet familiar

in my imagination
I'm introducing you

to mangoes already,
to fresh bread,

halvah and tamales,
injera and kimchi

but you're not
ready for difference

or new discovery,
hot fists clinging

to the Eden
you've always known

This week's mother poem arises out of a comment that Sue left on last week's poem, which got me thinking about (in her words) "the Eden of those early weeks of life." There's something poignant for me in thinking about what constitutes Drew's experience of a kind of Eden, where all his needs are met before he's expected or able to make his own way in the world.

I didn't manage to write to this week's Big Tent Poetry prompt, which invited us to listen to a podcast on an unfamiliar subject and then write a poem -- the only podcast or recording I listened to this week was on a subject I do know something about, which is lifecycle rituals -- but here's a link to this week's "come one, come all" post where folks are leaving links to their poems in comments.

[apple.mp3]