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As dew from petals drip sneaks from Adam without
warning
rib melt early while resting after naming in the garden that
morning
walks now named among rabble unrabbled with his hurried
naming
from east west toward night; there is in night shelter from the
name
given, a moment of returning into unnamed flesh herself
unwomaning
Behold. The less said of how you were he and how he was you
before
it will be better should the question come. How? Together
we made
each other, she will say. Being one we separated
as if oneness were burden
neither would admit we served.
She from her place in the night among the
animals named and unnamed
heard that other make his sound against the
sleeping world—my name
perhaps, she thinks; he is calling from his
sleep to me, feeling parted.
So she will approach him as she would a squeak
in a darkened corner.
Touch nothing. Say nothing. Move as if not moving
toward.
She feels a pleasant touch of her thigh against her thigh
slowly
like the rustle of leaves but this is no cool breeze; it is
summer
where she had thought only the months and never seasons dwell.
Be
still, you other in the night. Wait for sounds my breathe will make upon
you.
It is no rib I seek but the mirror of me, the moment we
create
before gentle light interrupts darkness. Let us share hidden
places.
As from petals drip the dew from you will I taste of life.
Thus
he dreams that once there was a firm rib that was stolen.
She wants for him
to be the dreamer who dreamed a dream,
herself thus less to be named than
namer of all things unseen,
namer of all things that between them pass
unspoken.
She bends toward him and speaks silently as the snake's
whisper;
you are the snake; tell yourself it was the snake; fear long and
narrow
passages that invite you into their darkness. He whispers,
I shall
hereafter call you "Eve" after the approach of dark.
And this place of
pleasure we share will be aflame forever.
