Quartering an Apple

What does it mean to slice up fruit,
to disassemble an organic
universe into parts, dismemberment
not from anger or spite, but merely
for ease of consumption, those four
slices set skin down like unfooted
salad bowls, wobbling slightly back
and forth, as I pick up the plate.
You can, sorry, you may, quarter any
apple with the same result. Winesap,
Delicious, Mackintosh, even the new,
sweet as a spring sunrise, Lemonade
apples I bought at the rusty nail-
stained, fruit stand, on the four-lane,
South Carolina Route 25, between
Greenville and Asheville.

Didn’t Isaac plead with Abraham “but
isn’t the whole more than the separated
parts?” And if he was sacrificed,
would our people have been the first
quarter removed from the G-dhead? Which
circles back to the planetary
shape of apples and Eve’s desire for
that first taste, and my odd curiosity
regarding which type of apple she
chose? Do religions agree to
disagree about this? Did she choose
Catholic-sweet like the Lemonade, or
Wiccan-tart like a Fuji? Jewish-
long-lasting like an Arkansas Black,
or Puritan-bitter like the thick skin of
a Granny Smith?

What would physics say about all of this?

Salvation South, March 9, 2023