Years later
long after the fall
had become history
she fell in love with Adam
first father
first man
with his clay hands
the first kneader of love
in woman and earth
his fingers firm from
plough-brunt and from
twisting necks in strife
his touch tender
from bringing a hundred
calves and foals to birth
and unplucking thorns
from the rugged
feet of birds
She looks
at the blooming apples in her lap
his weathered face sleeping eyes
stumbling against the knowledge
that on earth
she could not have
come
before
Eve
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