Eve to Adam (I)
I stepped from your side wearing those red stiletto
heels your gonads demand, feet sharing the ache
of your body's wound. Your eyes, varnished with desire,
Adam, reflected my breasts.
I turned away, felt a vitrifying heat in the stare coating each
crease, each curve of my backside.
Is this why I'm here, to be ogled through that spyglass
hanging between your legs?
I'll walk to the east a bit, try to calm myself, perhaps
pick some fruit for your damned dinner tonight.
Image: Falling Leaves, 2012