18”x23” lithograph and monotype
Self Portrait as Eve
I never use a peeler, I prefer
the frisson of a paring knife
chasing my thumb around the equator
of a red-green globe. I'm a risk-starved wife,
peeling apples for a son who insists
on naked fruit. I eat a snakey oil of skin
and he says I'm disgusting, then kisses
me on the mouth.
I'd do it again...
marry the man, carry the sons. I'd eat
the whole McIntosh, seeds and all.
But I keep an eye peeled for that serpent.
I'm yearning for another Fall
and watching for new fruit to grow—
there's something else I need to know.
Debra attended the Bennington Low Residency Writing Program, graduating shortly after I arrived. She was one of a few poets in the program committed to writing in a form, in this case the sonnet. I thought her work exquisite and asked if she would collaborate. She gave me this bold and erotic poem, wanted it printed in red.