Eve

You, so out of order, spreading gossip,
Telling dirty jokes, no sucker for a serpent,
More the one who offered it the fruit, display
Yourself so wantonly, or should I say,
So serpentine?, upon my sorry-looking
Couch. With lips more red than any apple,
I grow desperate for a taste. Combined,
Your batting lashes, luscious form and
Sassy conversation resurrect me from
The dead. If you, then, lead me out
Of Eden, I will be okay.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 33 times
Written on 2020-04-06 at 16:29

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