And Adam knew his wife, who through the knowing
bore Cain. You are handsy in the Uber,
having known me all afternoon though
what I will bear as a result is not
yet clear—you tied your hair
to the purpose, preparatory, eager
as the gull’s beak golden-wide, meal-open.
The city glitters and ticks and we share
breath, break bread, lie down with
time up our sleeves, antediluvian at best—
the flood looms.
Should I now conceive and bear sorrow
when the seed was sown in joy, was joy
for our interlocking fingers, my lingering
longing down the lore-soaked sheets and
no one to tell when your eyes were so soft,
knew me so well?
Listen to Haley Hodges Schmid talk about the poem at the Reformed Journal Podcast:
Photo by Xingchen Yan on Unsplash
