Today's poem is by Andrea Cohen
Eavesdropping on Adam and Eve
It didn't get interesting
until after they'd left.
An extended vacation,
Adam called it. R&
D, Eve said. Whatever.
In Eden, they never
said so much as
pass the salt on
account of everything
tasting so great there.
They were strangers
until they left, when
Adam confessed, I
felt penned in there,
and Eve, forgetting how
naked they'd been,
said, I was always
waiting for the other
shoe to drop. Now
they're both cobblers, now
they have so much
to talk about: whether
to spring for heat
or vaccines, whether
to call their interiors
climate or weather,
when the next ice age
might hit. Adam pours
himself another
hieroglyph and asks:
what does it all mean?
and Eve does what
she always does:
wraps herself, boa-
like, around him and holds
the camera an arm's
length above for a
this is us moment
for the snake they
miss so much.
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Copyright © 2020 Andrea Cohen All rights reserved
from Copper Nickel
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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