I’m not some
red apple man
for you to factor in
to whatever you’ve planned

Don’t imagine
I can be held
in one hand
for your consumption

Don’t imagine 
that after you snap through
my skin it will be
sweetness and juice within

No red souvenir
for your shelf
No red badge of honor
with which to brand your self

I’m no
red apple man
I’ve got something else in here
that won’t be easy for you

to fit into the simple pie
you’d love to make of me
I’ve got turquoise guts
to break your teeth

and old worms some alive and twisting
More that are sliced and cold
You don’t have the stomach
for what you could make of me