Eve
Temptation. Not my word; the one
they used, those men spying outside
the garden, hidden, breathless
with desire; the ones who wrote the story,
didn’t bother to compare notes, describe
the snake, ask me where I burned.
And the apple—theirs too. It was
actually a purple, juicy fig. And I
wasn’t tempted; I was hungry; I slurped.
No, I didn’t cower when His
voice split the air, found us naked;
I didn’t hide my nipples, my bush.
Adam? Well, he says he doesn’t
blame me, says he doesn’t want
to be immortal; he tolerates work,
decaf, rising early… and he fears hell.
It makes him squirm when I squeeze
him, grow his manhood, whisper,
I love it
when you touch
me there. Yes,
I believe, I believe.
I never tell him who the snake is.
Ed McManis’ most recent chapbook is Trash Truck 7:38 A.M. (And Other Love Poems”). Finishing Line press. He, along with his wife, Linda, have published esteemed author Joanne Greenberg’s (I Never Promised You a Rose Garden) latest novel, On the Run. Little known trivia fact: he holds the outdoor free-throw record at Camp Santa Maria: 67 in a row.
The Marbled Sigh 