I wish I could eat a peach. Or a strawberry. Or buy a prickly pear from a man who goes by the name, Empti.
I wish to wish, to have, to lust, to crave, to drink, to dream, to seduce, to play, to amuse. But alas, my graceful locks swaddle me in my own darkness, and my mother teaches me to plait them everyday.
And as I grow, they grow viciously around me, until one day, they offer me a fruit. Now, I'm not Pope's Belinda, so why can't I eat a slice? Nibble on it a bit perhaps, and wear the dress of a Maenad? Why can't I make you ashamed of your nakedness, your own truth?
Maenad: Devotees of Greek god, Bacchus. These were wild women with unkempt hair who celebrated sexuality and self-intoxication.