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Poetry

Do you know the taste of Eden?—
the history of the world is on your lips:
apples and sin! Fingertip to fingertip
God electrifies the elite elect: Adam

on the Sistine Chapel, while the devil is on the lam.
Who sold Adam to the worm?—script
of dust to dust in death’s kinship—
God took up his pen and wrote the world again.

Like the baby brought to Solomon,
only the real mother would feel death’s pain—
God could expel but not kill his spawn.
The mark on our foreheads as once on Cain’s,

God’s fingerprints’ wondrous whorls.
Sin made whole the human soul.


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