Poem by Aline Murray Kilmer

To Sappho, about Her Apple

THE highest apple swinging in the treetop
Fell in my two hands, eagerly uplifted.
For though I knew its height was half its fairness,
Still I would have it.

Now I am wise with centuries of wisdom.
I lift my voice to give your ashes comfort:
Sappho, the tempting fruit that hung above you
Was hard and bitter.

1. Bound
2. Shards
3. The Harp
4. Ambition
5. Light Lover

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