I don't recall being a boy
No knee-high to a grasshopper
I was the man, the first, the one that
Swallowed up the results of all of them
The reason of who and when and how
But being new from the red hot, suffocating soil full of suffering life
My breath of life through my Father
I longed to see through the eyes of my children
The shiny, shiny eyes that lingered on the forbidden tastes
Of distraction and pain
The pain of knowledge
With the tender bite of satisfaction
“Shiny, shiny,” my eyes read back to Eve
As she handed me such a treat
Such a trick
Shiny, shiny, my heart filled up with too much blood and love
I don't recall being a boy
I didn't have one such time I could create my boyhood in a treat
But boy oh boy
Was that bite delicious
Even after the war in my heart and mouth turned it to dust
Dust like me
I never wanted to forsake my Father
I was only one man
I grappled with the angles of despair as I haughtily exorcised
The following of hell
With an Angel by my side, like a part of my arm
I fell to the fiery pit, looking up at heaven
Remembering that first bite.
About the Creator
Melissa Ingoldsby
I am a published author on Patheos.
I am Bexley is published by Resurgence Novels here.
The Half Paper Moon is available on Golden Storyline Books for Kindle.
My novella Carnivorous is to be published by Eukalypto soon! Coming soon
Reader insights
Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Comments (4)
Deep and soul searching. I wonder what I was during the early times, I may have been a boy, I have so much male hormones and a lot of hair. I really enjoyed this poem. Makes me think.
Oooo, so dark, intense and poignant! Loved your poem Merly!
All it takes is a single moment, a momentary whim, a whimsical bite to be lost for what seems like forever. "I don't recall being a boy...." Now there's a line that deserves some profound personal, psychological, emotional, soul-wrenching, theological exploration. What does it mean, never to have been a child?
love your story