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John Destalo
Poems
Dec 2019
the rise of eve
he was asleep
in his own
satisfaction
she was awake
wanting
the snake
was a figment
something to blame
for his future
the tree was time
and its fruit
the secret
she already knew
but pretended
she didn’t
she was not a rib
but she left him
with less of himself
Written by
John Destalo
55/M/Harrisburg, PA
(55/M/Harrisburg, PA)
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