Vol 9, Num 13 :: 2010.06.25 — 2010.07.08
The wasp walks Eve’s breast, testing leg-stick on Rodin’s bronze fingerprints,
And the woman concerns herself only with this:
raising of arms and a knee, forever, the burden
eased by a protrusion of alloy beneath her left foot.
These limbs, wielded by Eve against all she now knows, cradle the wasp’s nest.
Banished, nature finds a way to her;
and you come to look,
after the apple, and
before she is stung.
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