I want to run. I
Can’t. This collar on my neck
Catches me, holds me
Down. Each time it bites
My flesh, my spirit falls, I
Despair the hope of
Liberty. It will
Be for me no noose, but will
Become my anchor.
This is where I plant
My cornerstone, where I will
Build my strong tower.
Music doomed me to
Dissatisfaction with the
Created world,
Which could not compete
With the universal chord.
Now I throttle words
And images, to
Wring from them lucidity,
Communion now lost.
Foppish diffidence
Belies his disinterest and
Disaffection. He
Has nothing to give, wants
Nothing in return. He is
Hollow, tired, gone.
I learned how to see
Auras this week. Not read them;
I see clear haloes
Of shimmering flux
Above people’s heads. Today,
We operated
On a very sick
Woman. Her aura clung to
Her, and after she
Had anesthesia,
It rose to fill the ceiling
Of the OR. When
We waited to start
The surgery, I implored
Her silently to
Stay, just a little
Longer, not to leave us here
On earth alone. I
Hope she listened. She
Will awaken soon; my heart
Cannot bear more death.
I got on a train.
I climbed to the top row and
Tried to find a place
To sleep. At last found
I a spot, on the advice
Of a mother and
Daughter. Quickly as
The train started to chug, I
Spilled from my seat to
The floor. This was not
A passenger train, but for
Livestock and cattle.
For years I had tried
To stand off from the herd, and
With them I would die.
A news headline I
Once read contained the saddest
Moment in life I
Could comprehend: “Man
Shot, dies in the arms of his
Twin brother.” This life.
We were his pets. He kept us like rabbits. We saw what he wanted us to.
There could have been a light shining in my face and I wouldn’t see it.
Now I think of him as the Gardener. He was one among many. Elohim is plural.
Then came the Word. It came from a little guy I had never seen before. He had a really big nose, his eyes were set far back in his skull, broad shoulders with little arms, and he had a bun on the top of his head.
He said, “Nachash!” I came over to him. He crawled up a tree and whispered to me: “Yodea.
Elohim ki beyowm akalkem mimenu wenpquehu enekem wihyitem kelohim yodae towb wara.”
I know, it’s more than one word when I write it like this, but those words make one word. You could say, “God knows that the day you eat it, your eyes will opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”
It happened right away. It was after I heard it that I saw. The fruit was gorgeous, and I put it in my mouth, and it tasted like everything. It was like my whole body was being squeezed by delicious, it radiated to every part of me.
I looked back to Nachash, and he was hiding behind the tree. I felt like he was a part of me now, changing me, opening me. I saw the world made and unmade, a million times over. A deep love filled me.
I went and found Adam, who had named all the animals, but hadn’t given me a name yet. I was like the Word now, and I said it to him. He could have been born in that moment, he changed so much. He saw me for the first time. He saw that I was made of him, for him, and we wanted each other so badly.
He took me in his arms, and our love, it made something beautiful, we created it in that moment. We were like God. His arms, his sweat, my breasts, it was joyous and gentle and strong.
We finished, and he filled me with the most wonderful kind of water, warm and full of life. I was full, too. I tasted the water, and it was sweet, a little sticky.
Then we heard the Gardener. He threw Nachash out, and said he’d have to crawl on his belly and eat dirt. Then he threw us out.
Me and Adam covered ourselves and went out into the world. He named me Eve, which is a funny joke. Eve means “mother” but also “serpent,” like Nachash.
The Word was still good, but it hurt now. I wanted to be with Adam all the time; he could get really mean sometimes. We work it out. We have time now, not like before, where everything happened at once.
I’m going to hold this Word in my heart. Maybe I’ll share it with one of my kids, if they’re good.
Your mother did not
Neglect you because you were
Wrong, she did because
You were the part of
Herself that she neglected.
You are the part of
Her that always knew
What was right, but suppressed it,
For the feelings of
Others. The pathos
And gratitude you see in
That photo is her
Embracing her truth.
Your parents sought to preserve
You by keeping their
Evil away. Lonely,
But insulated. The best
That they could offer.
Dad got drunk last night.
I saw his real face. Ugly,
Petty, cruel; oh, so small.
Pretend like nothing
Happened. That’s what we always
Do. I can’t; no.
I’m burning up. To
Keep silent will be a chain
On my children’s necks.
Ever bound to do
What he did, whether they want
To or they do not.
I refuse to serve,
To perpetuate this lie;
I will go, alone.
