Poetry by Sheri Flowers Anderson
Even those tasteless ones that taste like water,
those ones with the soft texture
of out-of-season defeat, can be composted,
fed back to nature, reclaimed into the earth.
I prefer the cleansing scent and sweetness, the mild
tart-tingle-crunch of fresh taste in my mouth,
biting into the unpeeled whole of an apple, the
whole of life, just as it is,
delighting in nature’s freshness, in the inspired,
intimate relationship with an apple a day
Surely, I’d fail a blind taste test, these tastebuds
unskilled in differentiating between a Fuji and a Gala,
or a Red Delicious and a Mcintosh. But still,
I’d savor the varying flavors, the firm texture,
my teeth and tongue enmeshed with this simple
thrill, the magnificence, bite after bite.
Sheri Flowers Anderson writes and lives in San Antonio, Texas. Her work has appeared in Atlanta Review, Unbroken Journal, Pensive Journal and others. She’s the author of a poetry collection entitled House and Home (Broadside Lotus Press). When she’s not writing or reading, she’s watching YouTube. Visit: https://linktr.ee/sheriflowersanderson.
