top of page
Eve
by Carrie Guimond
​
Would you believe how sweet the juice
that burst through skin as mouth met fruit?
Or how sweet the shudder the forked-
tongue against my ear, delivered?
Adam, from whose rib I owe my breath,
brook my burning offering in this debt.
Let me be what Lilith couldn’t. Come,
the sagely serpent anticipates—
Yes, I heard our Father’s warning:
Don’t touch the forbidden fruit.
You mustn’t fret; what is good is gray.
Idle hands are the tools of lovers.
Alone. Together. My beloved, let
us uncover clandestine pleasures.
​
bottom of page