Repealing the Face of a Fruit by Sean J Mahoney Sure I got pricked more than once Reaching for the fruit whose time I knew had come for picking and Juicing but my stomach ached, my Eyes jiggled it seemed in sockets. I withdrew my hand and I regained My composure and my balance on The ladder. I took deep breaths. Up through the branches and leaves The sky glowed an alarming blue. Below me the world I had ascended From glowed too but with syllables Of shock and awe. Despair snaked Around the trunk of the tree, leaving Behind it leeches and assorted red Parasites. Despondents shared Sharp nipples and fingers. Necrotic Milk dribbled. And Despair arrived Next to me, begging me to reach For the fruit once again. Which I Found painfully odd. I bade Despair Hold the fruit while I descended And Despair chuckled. “This is Not fruit. Not even knowledge or Wealth. This is submission to sad Promises; asinine one-liners from A spectacle glut rich with nausea. You will continue to hunger and Not know why no matter how much You consume.” And that tiny truth Birthed the freedom to again let go.