Genesis

As dawn nudges through cigarette-studded curtains, your throat bobs and I see Eve: outstretched apple and thrumming curiosity crowding out God. Under your ragged breath, the steadiest thump. I trace its thoroughfare with my teeth. What if Eve never broke skin? Licked the fruit from stem to base? Let its sweetness permeate the peel, satiate her eternal thirst? If she snapped her mouth shut, we wouldn’t seek wholeness in this fallen state. Beyond our room, the desert gapes. In its maw, I learn our nakedness, no celestial garden to shade us from the colliding day.