The fruit was Eve’s second meal.
Her first: prime rib, marinated in warm
dirt. Adam, that strange, staring man, prepared
it with his fibrous hands. His voice was the first
sound in her ear. The soft words: Eve, Mother
of all living. She dropped the bone,
her teeth had scraped it clean. Turning,
she saw breathing ferns, a hare, dung beetles;
a small snake slicing through a stream, and rising
up the bank, toward the woman and the bone.
Crouching down, the woman let it wrap her wrist.
The man recoiled. Eve watched the forked tongue flick
her meat-stained knuckles, then lifting the creature
to her breast, she spoke her first word: Drink
Benjamin Wright will be graduating from Brigham Young University in April 2021 with a BS in Exercise & Wellness, and a Creative Writing minor. He is in the process of applying to MFA programs around the United States to continue his studies of poetry.
