God lied. Women were born from the earth.
Crawled from the sea. Risen from your lake in the wood.
They were made from the dead fires of earth; formed from the ash,
Running, Screaming towards God their name.

It was man who came second.

It was man who was God’s afterthought,
pulled from the side of the almighty Woman.

Eve wrote to the Devil and I
wrote to Eve.
I guess the only time we wrote
to each
other was when I cursed
her while sitting on the bathroom
floor.
I wrote to tell Eve
that I never loved her
that the only reason I bit
the apple was because
she had brought it.
I wrote to Eve, and Eve
wrote to the Devil.
I guess the only time
we wrote to each other was
when I wrote to tell her to bring
my **** back. The jackets
my grandpa's watch, and even
the necklace.
She wrote back.
"I'll get your things,
we ought to meet down the middle."
She wrote to the Devil : " He is
gone, now, you take his place..."
I wrote to Eve
and Eve wrote to the Devil.
I guess the only time we wrote
to each other was
when I had the gun ******
in my mouth, I nearly did it, but
here I am. Still,
I wrote to Eve, and Eve, well,
she wrote to the Devil.

Sweet,
            Juicy,
                      Tasty,
                                fruit.
             Forbidden,
      but
so
    are
          all
               Things
                             that
                awaken
the senses.

You were everything I want, nothing that I need
But I grew out of wanting the apple on The Tree.

mine
is built from
hills
and valleys
hills and creases

a body
a vessel
a shape
a form

mountains and valleys
beige yellow green and red
body is an arrangement
of forking paths

his
constructed by the devil
he is beautiful
in his sharp knife body
created from dust
before it could settle

but just as
Adam and Eve
I couldn't stand
the temptation.

I’m made of dust, dried bones and incomplete,
To be cursed for want of a stolen rib,
Barely alive with the faintest heartbeat,
A grown man like an orphan in his crib.

No room for a soul in my shriveled veins,
No life support for fragile loneliness,
To acquiesce in sadness given reins,
A flawed experiment in holiness.

To be alive gives no consolation,
My helpmate has absconded with my soul,
Turning my devotion to temptation
To fill a void when I should have been whole.

This lesson has been far too hard to learn!
To God-forsaken earth let me return!

Embarrassed at her crude, superficial motivations she continues. This is a hidden therapy she’s toying with. She thinks she isn’t any good. She doesn’t know as many words as he does.
Comparison is her damnation.
Look at her, she’s plastered herself to the floor.
Immobile, she can’t even reach the glass ceiling threshold.
He slithers away, contented.