The Snake
________Listen here. Blame me,
then Eve all you want,
but it was Adam. Putting on
a show of innocence,
as if following Eve’s lead,
who allegedly seized my advice—
Ridiculous! Adam was
never smart, lazed around
even after he made Eve
eat the apple,
even as she bled
each month, tended the flowers,
trees, all the creatures.
________She was kind, even to me,
unrattled by my cosmetics,
my forked tongue—not
more symbolic than Adam’s rib.
She was careful where she stepped
so she wouldn’t hurt
a living thing. And generous,
she let Adam play
with her long hair, tangle it
into knots when he was bored,
which was often,
so he wouldn’t keep spilling
his seed, which by itself
was useless.
________The garden—what did he do for it?
Or give her? At night,
babbling about himself,
in the morning, complaining,
too much birdsong,
the squirrels’ chatter, foolish.
Later, the chickens’ eggs, very yolky,
so he dropped them by mistake,
the goats’ milk, too sweet,
so he tossed it,
peppers, too yellow,
and that apple—so red,
off limits?
________He didn’t
heed our warning.
Sank his teeth in—
then claimed it
too soft.
Leave a Reply