Eve's Daughter

Eve's daughter kisses the rind of earth with two small bare feet; suckling the ground as though connected - they are always connected. She is rail thin, but her breasts are two swollen orbs blooming. Her one hundred brothers braid holly root and weeds into her tangled hair, and with their outstretched hands call: "Come little sister, come."

Her tiny fingers are folded into the mangled flesh of her brothers callused hand (holding tightly.)

At night, when the stars burn hazy black, and the moon bloats to it's chipped fullness she falls asleep to dream beside those brothers. She dreams of cold rivers caressing her hands and birds flying overhead with a language that taunts her to try and understand. When the sun burns hot she wakes to the sour hint of blood between her legs. Eve is tangled with Adam - she doesn't understand. She screams - she doesn't understand.

Eve's daughter puts leafs between her legs and curls her small body up like a wrinkle to avoid the pain.

Her tiny fingers are folded into the mangled flesh of her brothers callused hand (holding tightly.)

At night she lies still and quiet; forgotten in the encampment of brothers who sleep beside her. She watches the sky fold within itself - she watches it change and turn. The stars are curved like a hip bone above her. When she feels a hand cover her own she makes no noise. She is silent and wide-eyed while one of her brothers moves on top of her. "Little sister," he croons; he kisses her neck. He hears a whimper, and puts his hand on her face: "Hush, little sister." He kisses her mouth, and a soft tongue tickles her lips.

He enters her with a moan. She grips his hand and cries out. He moves with a pattern like the ever changing sky above them.

When the sun burns hot again he is folded next to her. He kisses her to baptize the morning. They move through the day as though one person - never out of sight - never out of reach.

At night she waits for his touch on her. A hand enclosing before she breaths in to feel his weight on top of her. He touches her center with firm hands and kisses her breasts with hungry lips. He moves in waves over her, and she sucks at his shoulder.

When the sun rises again she does not feel his kiss, and when she opens her eyes another brother is lying on top of her; she can still feel him inside of her. She pushes him away and runs until she finds the brother who kisses her softly with the sunrise. There is yelling, and fighting when he is told and Eve's daughter falls into the grass weeping.

There is fighting, and then there is silence.

Eve's brother's circle her, there are now two dead bodies in the meadow and there is blood seeping into the earth. Eve's daughter begs the sky to let her go where her two brothers have gone. To close her eyes forever.

She is taken to her mother, where she falls asleep in arms that are unfamiliar; arms that she does not know. She sleeps in the sunlight, and then in the moonlight. With eyes cracked open she watches unblinkingly as the moon grows from sliver thin to the bulbous fullness that brings her brothers to her with kisses but she shies away from them. Her bleeding stops and her belly swells.

She watches the sky turn, and in her cold hand she can feel the callused weight of her dead brothers hand. She is sick from it.

When dawn first rises (her brothers bones are yellowing in the meadow) she feels the ripple of pain stretch across her abdomen. Her knees wobble and she moans feeling life slide from her center. From a place where only they have touched. Her woman-skin is hard and heavy; and she learns to walk again with a stranger shadow beside her: a daughter.