I oblige the genesis
lay the loins facedown on the grass
indulge the sun, the fruits,
his throbbing rib, all he lacks
— is it all of me?
I roam the springs, ice on bare skin
watching the hollow in his chest,
tracing it inside of me.
Not the second sex if God’s a woman,
birthing me through him.
The vipers shed with me
and the serpent speaks and the streams
wet me all sin-green.
She speaks of the power in me,
warns me it will ache
as it does every month
and swivels up my right arm in the dips
of muscles and around my neck.
In squeezing pulses she strokes
her veiny muscles on me.
I see him
and take take take
the answer from the tree,
bring my lips to its flesh
to the poison lust red
and he watches
wishing to be as free.
Eyes on the juice down my chin
down my throat, ears to the teeth
skin to the way my mouth opens —
in ways it never did for him.
Masticated faith he follows my lead
already envious of my wholeness
offers his hand
and I give him more than he can be.