Monday, October 31, 2011

Poem: Original Eve

Original Eve

From this vantage she
says it’s hard to believe

now in a god’s blunt urge
to assume what must

always have been the world’s
strangeness into one order

into endless rededications
of nouns arcing

tribally through the milky
collusion passing

for experience. I went
after something (some thing?)

nameless though not caring
finally if it were only

a flung clump of fatted night
or a blue orb of rain.

One noun, one thing,
one verb, one action:

everything sheathed cosily
under one skin:

do you know she says
in those days just

like my arms my clitoris
was under voluntary control

I could make it swell
and quiver like raising

a finger, a stint
of pleasurable oddity

that never came close
to outshouting that unsafe

bristling I sensed
I was formed around.

As for the serpent tale she says
serpent my eye I

just watched myself
thinking in a river

until one of us said
if you walk away the world

will discover you uncover
you recover you just

decide if you want to know
a new word pain.

I did.
I do.

© Ger Killeen