I keep thinking about how, after
the fruit--they didn't lie
to one another. They didn't envy, he didn't reach
out to strangle her
neck, to stop the blood
Instead, it seems the snakey lie
money, or last name.
It was their bodies
that sent them hiding
in the chest-high bushes.
They were naked.
Nipple, hair, crease.
They were ashamed.
And after He found them, as the evening cooled,
(because who could hide from Who Created),
he shook His all-knowing head at the leaves
cobbled together, tied with vines or stitched with
fir needles. children children,
there's hail, wind and dust.
He wrapped them in hides, skins to protect
And sent them out to battle this:
souls and thorns, labor pains,
one another. To stop
the blood pulsing there.