Emily Dickinson

Forbidden Fruit (2)

FORBIDDEN FRUIT.
II.
HEAVEN is what I cannot reach!

Genesis inversion

Eden's forbidden fruit made humans mortal. Dickinson flips it—the fruit represents heaven itself, making desire the forbidden thing.

The apple on the tree,
Provided it do hopeless hang,

Conditional logic

The syntax matters: 'Provided it do hopeless hang' means heaven only counts as heaven if it's unreachable. Attainability would destroy its value.

That 'heaven' is, to me.
The color on the cruising cloud,
The interdicted ground

Spatial recession

Three nested barriers—hill, then house behind hill, then Paradise behind house. Each 'behind' pushes desire further away.

Behind the hill, the house behind,—
There Paradise is found!
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Economics of Desire

Dickinson treats heaven as a scarcity problem. The poem's central paradox appears in lines 3-4: heaven must be 'hopeless' to qualify as heaven. If the apple were reachable, it would cease to be the apple she wants. This isn't theology—it's psychology.

The word 'interdicted' (line 6) does legal work. It means 'forbidden by authority,' importing courtroom language into spiritual longing. Dickinson often wrote about desire as a kind of property law, where prohibition creates value. Compare this to her line elsewhere: 'Water, is taught by thirst.'

Notice what's absent: God, prayer, salvation, any Christian path to heaven. Instead she gives us 'cruising cloud' (line 5)—a moving target that guarantees failure. The poem catalogs unreachable things (cloud color, forbidden ground, hidden houses) as if building evidence for a case about the nature of wanting itself.

Dickinson's Seclusion

CONTEXT By her thirties, Dickinson rarely left her family's property in Amherst, Massachusetts. She dressed in white, corresponded through letters, and declined to publish. Her withdrawal wasn't hermitage—it was curation of distance.

Read the poem's geography as autobiography: 'The house behind' (line 7) could be any neighbor's house in Amherst. She's not describing cosmic realms; she's describing the view from her window. The 'interdicted ground' might be someone else's yard—literally forbidden because it belongs to another family, metaphorically forbidden because crossing it would mean social contact.

The final line's exclamation—'There Paradise is found!'—sounds like discovery, but it's really definition. She's not finding Paradise; she's deciding that inaccessible things count as Paradise. This is how voluntary isolation sustains itself: by treating distance as achievement rather than loss.