Adam

It is new,

This solid land,

A form beneath

His foreign feet.

He fights for something,

A meaning

In the sound that,

Unintentionally,

Falls from his tongue

And crumbles

Back into dirt,

Which might as well

Be flesh.

But this heaviness,

A longing he can’t express

Or describe

Comes before and then

He is absolutely nothing,

Horizontal and unmoving.

So from his flesh,

His vitality held in by tight skin,

She was birthed,

She blossomed from what grew

From the seed of emptiness,

Earth that moved,

And simply science

In the wrong context.

And in this nothing,

In this silence,

A wall that was never

To be scaled,

A craving grew,

Boiling into

A flash of needing,

Into words,

Into Eve.