In Eden

It began as dialogue.
Bite. Apple. Vulva.
Yours and Mine.
It was a rainy day, just before the drops fell,
the autumn incense thick in the air.
I peeled back the first – the orb
of knowledge.
Hear me echo.
Jesus is the crash
and the abandon.

Adam was always the innocent
one, sneaking peaks at male
genitalia,
coveting back hair and testicles
like they were of him/
from him, a gift.
I grew to despise the
Y chromosome, the fur bearing
male
dressed for the hunt and the thrill.

I was blamed for the downfall
of men, but no one knows
the way Adam fell
like a perennial in winter.
Or how he spent nights
charmed by
length of dancing asp,
Natrix atra,
tasting
temptation.