Sunday, March 4, 2007

Poem

Framing Eve

From a viewing
Of a Margaret Jamison painting




Her head tried to imitate
The apple of her demise,
But with all this knowledge
She could not decide-
Delicious or transparent?

Her form is laid on leaves
Not as a means of modesty
Highlighting her torso
Already decomposing
In the sin of enlightenment.

Having relations with a hidden
Adam, being accused
And used, made the seeds
Under her tongue, sprout.

T. A. Delmore

1 comment:

Gwen said...

I had forgotten how great this poem is. Isn't it about the little assemblage she made?

Your blog is very good!

love, G.