The Adam 

it begins as you 
escaped from The Adam 

a fracture of ribs crunching
beneath you as you trespassed
in the skeleton garden--

bone in hand

you thief you 

& at the windows eden
is the name of his sister 

she eats apple seeds
& sends you post cards around
the holidays--

vicious trees with their 
varicose bark--

their bird-beak teeth--
grinning with talons--

where do you hide
when the world is his body?

when his hand-prints
leave their ghosts in 
the tide pools of your soul--

is your spirit made of 
water or fire?

you burning bush you--

you runaway prophet--

what happened to 
your one flesh?  

i saved his voice
on the answering machine
as a reminder of 
what running sounds like

to recall 
how easy the pairing
knife quarters the 
flesh of the peach--

a stomach full of pits--

these collagen promises--

you took my knees 

& kissed the physical 
out of my skin

until i felt un-real 
an elbow in the soil--

you: the garden with the white
fence, the timid plum tree 
& the latched gate--

you: the root--
the thick & purple veined--

when the landscape barters 
itself into night &
the grass bristles with
frost i want more
ribs--

i imagine perching over
you as you sleep--

bare chest & blank earth--

you have an unfair number
of bones--

& here i am clutching 
the one gift rib--
greedy boy of the dirt--

who shoved red pepper
down my throat & chewed
basil leaves on the porch--

oh i hate that 
i left a half of myself
in you--

oh how un-whole we 
are-- how unholy--

digging between the zucchini 
& un-ripe pumpkins--

loose earth--

i still don't want to see
god-- i know he's gold & 
busy cutting himself into
communion hosts--

i can't re-conjure your
voice anymore but

sometimes your laugh
rustles leaves & 
i think about 

laying beside you 

severed & murderous
on the cutting board sky--

clink of knife--
i minced garlic &

you opened the sliding glass
door with a handful of 
tomatoes & finger bones--