adam / adamantly infatuated
with eve / evening comes and
i imagine them / emptied-out
souls / entwined and barely alive /
cast down into earth.
what must it feel like to fall for each other
and know of nothing else?
what, then, must it feel like to know
there is so much more to fall for?
spitting out seeds of forbidden
fruit like sworn planters
awaiting first whispers
of resurgence.
sweet juices of knowledge dripping
down lips, thick sap dyeing
grasslands into fields of orange;
smarter and so much more ignorant in
seconds, sides of mouth glistening with
shame, delight —
each bite weighed down by the
weightiness of an unannounced
revolution:
march on.
father tells me
god’s punishment for them
was the cruelty of birth;
that come to think of it
eve is our mother of mothers
and us but a remnant of her past sins,
heirs to rebellion.
and when i come home to freshly cut
apricot slices placed perfectly on plates,
i see the two of them chuckling at the
formalities the future has grown into
peering from the garden of eden,
pink juices trickling down chins.
our ancestors watch on /
adam and eve / god’s finest
creations / washing away the holiness
of all the maker had in store
