Eve

I’m listening to wet drops

of Eden beat against

my window.

I’m bored

even of apples and

I taste serpents

in my wine.

Mother Mary

is too good for me since

I’ve become a little sinful,

but I’ve learned

there are ways around

the Bible.

So I call to Eve.

The woman who

spread open sex—did she

masturbate?

Her punishment for boredom

was pain during childbirth

but now we have C-sections

and multiple orgasms and

if she were here now

with me, she would

skinny-dip, smoke cigars,

get a Ph.D.

I want her bones;

at least a charm to hang

around my neck.

It’s raining drops of Eden

over and over.

The same water that ran

out of Eden and into

Euphrates seeps into

the ground—a mothering

earth.  And I’m

biding time,

waiting for

the apocalypse

or a leak in the ceiling.

 

 

-Donna Dallas