Eliana Lee
Colorado State University
but i never asked for this
they taught me to light up the room
a woman is a beautiful thing, after all
i was a [wife] before i had a chance to be anything else
the knowledge of good and evil was too tempting for me
i know what you’re thinking, that’s so like you
to bite first, a mouthful of blood: blaspheme
is found in the skin peeling off my lip
the spit flying from his mouth
i could have been holy
i was young. we were on a trail
i was following him down the rocky path
a tree struck by lightning blocked the straight way down
he didn’t look back (he complained that waiting for me was like chewing salt)
a follower is always also alone– and so, alone, i witnessed the
twisted branches crucified by some moment of
pure transcendent fury slicing through a life-
time of blooming and and producing
fruit always in the right season,
never too often, never too much
the tree was a fool. we know
being the tallest
on the hill
means
death
not even beauty can save you from being too close to heaven
and now, i can tell what you are asking. yes, i took the first bite. the knowledge of life and death didn’t taste like blood. the knowledge of good and evil did and i loved the metallic sweetness. i crave it even now, but i have learned better. i’m sure you want to know that too. did i learn? well, as the harbinger of death, i can tell you that the rest of the apples had to fall too after that. before you call me a fair defect, a monster, a woman, remember this: i never made the tree (the trace of arsenic dormant in every apple seed) i never made this. i never made my hands (the only thing i am left with). i’m sure you will say it is my fault for reaching the arms i was given. it is my fault for tasting with a mouth created
insatiable.
i don’t mind- that is all in the past now. how many can say that they brought about both the beginning and end of the world? i am too wise for pride, too tired for guilt. i pulled the knife out of my back. i choose to believe that i put it there. enemies and cowards escaping blame, i have no need for these epithets. i grew tired of meekly covering my hair before god, so i shaved it off. he didn’t spite me a second time,
i am not young, why would i be? part of my curse is watching the ending. there you have it. a penitent sinner.
on thursday i stand barefoot in my kitchen
the floor soaking in the late afternoon sun
my knife slices through the flesh, through the core
sticky-sweet juice runs across my blue-tile counter
a hot water bottle for cramps
and three locks on my door at night
it’s not such a bad life
oh- i have a lover now too
neither of us help-mate, not perfect complements
we fight sometimes, and the harsh winters soak into our bones
like everyone else
i am tired
i scratch the soft place behind my knee
rub a heel sore from a day in unforgiving shoes
the apples are almost done baking now
cinnamon and cloves, soft dough criss-crossed as crust
my lover wades through the puddles of sunlight
kisses my forehead
home is a place where the only trees in the garden
are the ones you planted yourself.