after Hieronymus Bosch

God offers us a lover’s open palm,
a cat mouths a mouse, a bird swallows a frog. 
We take sin for its pleasures,
unaware of the loss. 

How foolishly we drool for forbidden fruit
dripping down our chins, sticky on our chests.
We mistake sin for home, crawl within a peach
to suckle the sweetness from one another’s breasts.

Our yearning mouths open wider
to eat from a feeding bird’s beak.
We sit with the duck, finch, and owl
as they mother us in all that pleasure seeks.

Craving more, we pick flowers and force 
the bouquets inside one another,
dress ourselves in petals,
and pretend it’s innocence clothing us.

Our earthly delights rot and sour,
devour us within the hour. 
We hide our sins beneath our skin,
and lie in the ruin we so welcomed in.