From the Apple Tree
- Mpumalanga Zwane
- Feb 27, 2018
- 1 min read
Gird your innocence, they told her
Let it not rest on fiery loins
But let your burning loins consume plenty fruit,
They told him
Pick from the olive garden,
Pick from her apple tree.
So what of her girded innocence?
So what of his burning needs?
What of these societal expectations?
You tell me...