Poem # 11 from the Arts Fest Reading

When I Unwrap the Fruitcake


When I unwrap the fruitcake
from its silver shroud,
layer upon layer
of ever more convoluted, evolved, and faceted
foil,
I almost shrink from the sight of the inner
more sacred shroud
(Turin is discredited – but not this)

the cloth with its inter-weavings strikes my mind,
a net to hold, a skin to preserve, and
each time
it must be stripped
to leave the naked delasciviousness of itself

each time it must lie bare before me to feel the pleasure
of my knife

it came from love, from god
for he so loved the world that he
breathed life into plants and beasts and men
and women

and they saw that it was good and bore fruit and the fruit was good
and worthy
and the woman took of the fruit and manipulated it as if she were
a god unto herself (for the serpent had beguiled her)

and she gave it to the man as an offering and he unwrapped her

tenderly he unwrapped her
tenderly he placed his edge against her
tenderly he split her
and made her whole.

When I unwrap the fruitcake from its shroud
new life stirs in me
stirred from the fruit of love’s labor past
not lost
that touches my eye
my nose
my tongue

and my serpent.