I'd like to slap that apple out of her hand
and grind the old boa to grease beneath my boot.
Here's another girl, innocent as Eve, believing herself to be a snake charmer.
But, see, she's the one swaying and charmed -
disarmed by his handsome
slither and hiss.
Look, this garden is old -
old as worlds and wombs;
sweet as God's first kiss;
unchanging as sparrows and swallows.
So, yes, I'd love to slap that apple right out of her hand,
but I'd just drive her closer to the tree.
I have to let it be.
After all, it's my footprints she followed.
For Hannah's prompt at Real Toads