Sour Apple

O little sour apple of reason
You’ve laid out the truth clear and sane,
Now I see the dark and the brightness,
I’d rather be blinded again.

For a fool loves without any caution,
For a fool plays any childs game,
Ignorance has its own freedom,
O I wish to be foolish again.

O little sour apple of knowledge,
You lie in my palm as a pain.
I have bitten and tasted your wisdom,
I’d rather be simple again.

© Anne Le Marquand Hartigan 1982

From Long Tongue, published by Beaver Row Press, 1982

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