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.)

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