A soft spot gone dark under shiny apple skin

but still tender

under gentle pressure

the once sweet flesh releases its

youth and expectation of desirability

downward

its sugars feed arsenic-swollen seeds

growing more bitter and slick

with maturity

harmless if swallowed sparingly

deadly if consumed with abandon

bite after bite

the expected flavor of the most basic fruit

regardless of skin color, heft or gnarled tree providence

remains the same

even to the most sightless of eyes

and the deafest of ears

upon first taste the prediction is

firm, then juicy

one misplaced bite pierces

a spongy chamber tunneled with fresh decay

the immediate feeling of involuntary disgust

ruining a sweet moment with what appeared

to be a perfectly good apple

its bad side not seen until it was too late

and then, I was no longer hungry.