‘The Devil’s Fruit’ by Chloe Clark

Hanging there, golden curves,
and so high that we stand on tip-

toes to reach, the flesh gives
beneath our fingertips and

mother yells for us to come in,
to stay away from that tree.

Mother is always warning
us, telling us what not to do

and never celebrating what
we naturally avoid: the pricker

bush, the bee’s nest, mushrooms
in the woods that look like dollops

of bright paint, where no paint
should be. Mother just speaks

of the trees we mustn’t climb,
the fruit we cannot eat. Like

gold, we imagine it must taste
rich, sweet. We long to peel

back skin and bite into fruit, feel
it give under the sharp

of our teeth. For now, the tree
is forbidden, tempting, casts

shadows on our yard. We imagine
climbing, knowing how good

even the fall might feel.

From issue #3: autumn/winter 2016

About the Author
Chloe Clark’s work appears in Apex, Bartleby Snopes, Hobart, Lockjaw, Midwestern Gothic, and more. She can be followed @PintsNCupcakes.