Ecclesia Tree

Suppose He hung the fruit
On the highest thorny branch.
Ascetic, stripped
Of its rind
By Heaven's gustings,
Its stained-glass flesh
Denuded and mateless.
Unbuttressed save
Its tenuous stem,
Do you think it still would long
To taste the lips of
Virgin genesis?

Of course it would.
Had He not said
Be fruitful and multiply?
The serpent was merely a matchmaker.