(no subject)
The scent of Eve carried to the serpent
carries the serpent to Eve.
She learns that to keep loud chaos at bay
she must first know chaos, that she must not
bend her ear to the pool
but instead be that light that sifts through branches
and embroiders in silver and blue
the face of each creature passing beneath.
Eve’s teeth tear skin and seed and flesh
that the juices of the pomegranate
might untwist her tongue.
Pulp sticks to her hands, her skin,
drips from her mouth to her chin,
drips down from her mouth to the ground,
gripping the dust, drying
on the spine of a fallen leaf.
The first name Adam alone makes he makes for Eve.
Life, he calls her.
carries the serpent to Eve.
She learns that to keep loud chaos at bay
she must first know chaos, that she must not
bend her ear to the pool
but instead be that light that sifts through branches
and embroiders in silver and blue
the face of each creature passing beneath.
Eve’s teeth tear skin and seed and flesh
that the juices of the pomegranate
might untwist her tongue.
Pulp sticks to her hands, her skin,
drips from her mouth to her chin,
drips down from her mouth to the ground,
gripping the dust, drying
on the spine of a fallen leaf.
The first name Adam alone makes he makes for Eve.
Life, he calls her.