Adam, Resculpted

I cannot believe
I am Adam
resculpted—
that I am your
Adam removed

I am of Adam?
In this skin?
Walking around, encumbered
by holes they think need filling?

I am birthed
Not molded
I come from the Womb
Not the Rib
I come into this world fully formed for
the EverythingEverywhereEverywhen

I only believe
in Choice

I bleed to the moon
I bleed for the past
I bleed for what was destroyed
Commandeered
Obliterated

Womb-frightened,
my parts pilfered and sold
to charlatans and shams

Now you want to lead me
away from my body
away from my strength
away from my power

I cannot abide the lies
When I am monthly seeping
Lunar Weeping
I am
hijacked and attacked,
my deepest chasm
misrepresented

(“My cunt is built
like
a wound that won't heal”)

I cannot believe
I am Sin
I am the apple incarnate
I am the origin of evil
I am the Snake in the Grass

I am the root, the route, they wrote
I am the Tide
I am the coupled and joined
I am the choice, I cannot believe
I am the consequence

When every month
I am bleeding
So another man can be born

These days they infiltrate
My body
My senses
My holes

dismembering the Whole
the Choice removed—
the power I held
in between my legs
reduced
to selling shampoo
and soda pop

No more of this appropriating.

I am not of Adam.
I am of blood lined caverns
and blood is first Woman
and woman is first Choice

and I bleed for the Earth
and I bleed for the Truth
and I bleed for that Choice

I am not of Adam,
entombed by rib or wrist.

I am of the Womb.

copyright eak 2003

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