Pomegranate Words

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by Rachel ArceJaeger, 16, Mountain Ranch, California

Think of the apple
That smooth, golden apple
Whose shimmering skin
Caught the eye of sweet

Plucked from the
Silvery bows of the garden
Whose seeds of desire
Bloom in the hands of amorous

An innocent sphere
Luscious and seductive
Sent down to earth to beguile
Our dear

Tearing her feet
From the hot, dusty track
Her heart fills with lust for the
orb; its voice moans her name

Who is to say if her eyes, bedazzled
By that smooth, golden apple
Did not see
Her fate in the form of

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