IF

If he knew he’d be dead by dark

Tolstoy supposedly said he’d keep

plowing which proves either

he really liked to plow or else

he was a bit off that day and I think

it must be the latter because

no sane man likes to plow that much

unless you mean the metaphorical

kind (haha) but Ell Tee was way too

uptight for that sort of thing and

not that imaginative but if

I were cursed with such knowledge

I’d find a hot metaphor and have a

wild time and get a revolver to

defend myself in case I’m slated

to die at the hands of a jealous

lover whose girlfriend I haven’t even

slept with and I know I’d probably

end up being shot with my own

weapon because as the Greeks figured

out a long time ago that’s how

these things usually end since

nobody escapes irony but still I say

it’s best to go down fighting or

polishing your weapon or being

metaphorical or doing anything

that counts as honest rebellion.

Eve

Everyone assumes

she’d never eaten the fruit

before she made the mistake

of sharing some with that dimwit

Adam, who of course confessed, babbled

like a frightened child

the first time God looked crosswise

at him. Actually, she’d been snatching

bites here and there for years.

Neither God nor Adam had been observant

enough to notice the extra lightness

in her step, the little smiles for no

particular reason, the way she laughed

as if their dry jokes were funny

or how she sat entranced by the wings

of the dragonfly, as if each beat were a reprise

of her heart, a count of the minutes, hours, days

until the making of a cocoon

or perhaps the breaking of one.

This poem was published by The Pinch at the University of Memphis