Eve

She is an open jewelry box

singing, a wasp flutter

harmonizes with sibilance

against the garishness

of that tree’s

TOUCH ME AND DIE!

One eye is the fractured blue of an

abalone shell, the other cormorant

shine stopped dead,

wings helpless against her temple.

The alabaster lid of her skin

splits like a poached egg,

bold entrails drip gracefully and

she takes the apple,

doesn’t care a corpse cannot eat.

*

This poem first appeared in Lupercalia.

Photo Source: Belz Museum of Asian and Judaic Art, Memphis TN

Published by

jessicahalseywrites

Jessica Halsey lives in Arkansas and is working toward earning a degree in Laboratory Science while she writes a horror series about werewolves, an urban fantasy series about fairies, and many strange poems. She loves birdwatching and performing venipuncture. Her house words are, “Is there blood on the floor?”

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