I can taste
the metal
of the sky,
steel stars and
aluminium moons,
iron gates,
shielding hearts like
a rib cage, but ribs
break
and the iodine smell
of broken skin
seeps into the
floor, like a blood
stain
bright red at first,
but dulling to
a ***** brown
I am Eve
before the apple,
my snake
merely butter-
fly and I can
see Adam, reach
his hand towards
me, lips smirking
as he feels me
twist, like tin
foil, away
from his
waist