Eve’s Sestina for Adam

I wanted the blood from the lip you’d bite

open for me.  I wanted the soft back

of your knee that glowed like an otter’s eye,

the flag of hair you’d throw out through the wild

sky, singing praises to Him through the air.

Clearly put, I was not born to be one

more pretty poppy in that garden.  One

more handful of fruit just for you to bite,

a patch of dirt where you could plant your heirs.

I was a song you had to put your back

into.  The first born fairy.  Artless, wild

and bare.  And I wanted more than my eye

saw, more than the final glance of your eyes

after you pinned me.  No – I wanted one

of your ribs.  So I took it.  Felt my wild

heart crack with arias as my nails bit

into your side, sliding my fingers back

out, waving that slim wet bone through the air­­­­—

spinning myself in sass and yards of air

kisses – turning my nose and loud ass eyes

up to Him.  And yes His fire split my back

as if He’d snatched from its cloudy bed one

virgin lightening bolt and threaded its bite

through my bold spine — as if I wasn’t wild

enough.  As if loving me was too wild,

too blasphemous an idea to air

in Eden.  Who was I to need a bit

of love from the gold apple of His eye.

Adam, you helpless egg.  I slipped you one

kiss and bled for us, but you were all back

and shoulders to me.  Offering your tears back

to that giant nipple.  Crying of wild

blood on your thighs.  He only could hear one

side.  So when that apple dropped through the air

I took it deep in my mouth and then I

saw that the bliss of absolution bites

straight through the heart of any one error.

So, yes, I backslapped Eden with my bloody wild,

But then—who gave you the Universe to bite?