You call me a fruit,
and I agree,
say
a fruit is ripe,
promising seeds,
bursting with juice.
You call me a fruit,
as though a vegetable
while I recite a litany
of fresh attributes:
a fruit is rich,
remembers its roots,
nourishes, quenches,
makes a display of any table.
I say,
I am the apple
that announces the gravity
of a given situation;
I am the pomegranate
whose gemstones teach
of the burden of possession;
I am the fig
our ancestors couldn’t resist.
You call me a fruit
and I agree:
soft, round and sweet.
Peel back my layers,
take a look at my pips.
Full as a melon,
sharp as a lime,
come over here
and bite me.
You can follow Adam and his creative efforts throughout LGBT History Month by visiting www.youngenigma.com