Eve, Let Me Tell You

written By

Eve: I transformed into a night bird,
scrutinizing you as you went for that red
delicious apple. I did not stop you.

I thought, what if you found the freedom
to rib the core, understand what want
feels like, and to fully embrace it

Adam and I, well, we come from
the same clay. We lay naked together,
our temptation wild and fiery.

I’m sorry you were birthed out of his
rib instead. Sorry you were his other
wife, subservient to the patriarchal

demands; you broke the rules with
rattle snake teasing you, the Honeycrisp
crunching in the leaves, in short:

heavenly delights. I’m a night hag,
you see, and all things come alive
at eve. Like your namesake. See,

Eve, we are a lot more similar than
the scriptures make us out to be.
To separate us, erase us, deny

our existence. Eve, let me tell
you: I’ve wanted to be you
my whole life. I’ve been tasting

that same forbidden sweetness
ever since, biting the world
the way you did.

Author

  • Clayre Benzadón (she / they) is a queer (bi /pan) Sephardi-Ashkenazi poet, educator, and activist. Her manuscript, Moon as Salted Lemon, was published by Driftwood Press in 2025. She has also been published in places including Jet Fuel Review, Libre, and SWWIM.

    Benzadón

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