Nora Cornell- Poetry
a child as a temptress,
she lives in a garden with invisible walls
she craved what was always just out of reach,
and the saccharine fruit left her mouth sticky at the edges. how was she to know she'd toed the line;
who was she to be a willful delinquent?
pointing fingers get caught in traps of lies,
but pretty pointed nails get farther.
she was mature for her age, said the serpent.
it felt like she was asking for it.
nora is a package that fits in my palm;
the ribbon tha...