A man inclines himself towards
The idea.
He lifts it off the table and raises
It to his mouth.

His mouth opens and his teeth
Are like thirty-two stars in the 
Night sky until he starts to savor

The wonderful richness of the thing.
Then his mouth
Is just a mouth and on the table, the fruits
Are round and full

Of liquid and the stem and the skin 
And the organs of rich nutrition inside
Are the result of centuries of thought

And centuries of being cultivated in 
The same place, 
An intellectual milieu which is the earth
From which 

The golden globes of apples grow.  
The globe of the earth is not so golden,
But the idea of the earth as such

Is the golden apple off the tree,
In the very beginning, Atom, Eve.

Illustration Courtesy of melindainman.com

By Conlan Salgado

Conlan Salgado is studying philosophy at Roosevelt University in Chicago. His poetry is online at conlansalgado.substack.com