Universal, Aspirational Eve

The caterpillar crawled
from apple leaf to bud
and chewed, contemplative,
before spinning Eve a line.
“See, we’re all born to change.”
He dangled a moment.

Apple blossom,
green hard fruit.
Sweet crunch, tart juice.
A butterfly’s cry.
“Alive! Alive!”

Into the tomb,
mummified.

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