Adam

 

I finally lived up to my name,

But the fruit tasted more like a lemon.

 

Endless nights I knelt

        in penance

at the trembling altar of

        her thighs.

Crying, (Murmuring?)

 Screaming.

Inaudible apologies

    to virtue,

    to innocence,

    to youth.

Goodbye.

 

I donít even like apples

 

Adam OíNeal