To a Grub

You are the child of the codling moth:
The thing that lurks beneath,
Subverts the apple's green temptation.
When I bite into things of pleasure
You are there:
Larval bitter aftertaste
Ruin of dissolute innocence
But that is why I love you
From my separate chrysalis life
Because you are merely real:
Your feet are on the ground
Your wings are not yet formed
You do not hide sour truth.
You are merely real
Nothing flashing, nothing sparkling
(A moth is merely functional)
But one day you will fly
A moth is merely functional
And that is why I wait
(The acrid segments of your body
Pulsing in my mouth)
Because you are the only flightpath
To escape
To adulthood
To fusion in one body
Two of us:
Two wings apiece
Two minds in flight
And that is what I hope perpetually.
And that is what I fear will never be.