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What was she thinking … Eve, that day, much like the one before, strolling through the garden’s mild 72 Fahrenheit, her only conflict, internal; a cunning seed consumed with devious intention.
No, more likely she assumes her role, plays the part. Recognizes the tree, be it apple or pomegranate, from a former life. A woman knows these things. Adam is busy naming the animals and gathering fruit from the orchard floor. He loves as one loves in slumber, in a dream.
in an orchard
knowledge is erotic
And as the story goes, only later the children came. After the endless spring, flowers fastened in their hair, and everything at their command, how long could two adults play in a garden, how plain, boring.
She plays her part well in the orchestrated text told by an omniscient narrator. If she is responsible for our downfall, for bestowing death, then she is the first to bring forth rebirth, establishing life in its cyclical nature.
sister’s apple pickings
in my palm