Adam’s belly was tight with seriousness and blind faith.
He knew nothing of sensual delights or even animal instinct.
He was on his rock waiting for God I think.
He was lean with fasting. Meanwhile I was retching
on my desire and curiosity, growing thin
on stars and water. I wanted words and ideas,
vivid opinions, something more interesting
than the garden. Then I met the serpent.
He understood my predicament and boredom.
He shared with me some secrets he’d learnt
when he was in God’s good books –
that there is so much more and we can know it.
‘Well,’ I thought, ‘I’ve had enough of basking
on lawns all day. Give me some stimulation.’
So I enticed Adam down from his rock
and we shared a bit of knowledge.
I’d been so used to him hanging around on rocks
that I hadn’t even noticed his superb body.
The sex we had was so intense it was embarrassing,
hence the fig leaves, besides which later
we could strip them off each other.
God heard our moans. That’s what woke him up.
He didn’t have a lot to say because he was so jealous
but he cast us out of his paradise into the rest of his creation.
Out here there is this minor problem of death
but the sex is still good.
(again an older poem from Eve’s point of view, playing with the idea that the knowledge learned from the tree of life was carnal)