19 May 2018

Chapter one verse twenty-eight, a poem by Rethabile Masilo

Be fruitful and increase in number;
fill the earth and subdue it.
—Genesis 1:28

Her flaming hair
is God's whole power,
even as heat swells
the damp atmosphere;
he hums a jingle
as he spins,
pedicel to fiber, four leaf
clovers, and grins.
'Seven days,' he says aloud—
this has took long enough
already. A motel room
with centrefolds on walls
(from dirty magazines),
and behind her, Adam
waiting with himself
in his hands, like a stump
with veins, the brine of Eve
in him, even as she
tosses her hair
to turn him
into a creature
whose need is to mate
with her. In her head
a moon light shines
on flowing strands
which are translucent
like flowers of love,
in a world she shares
with a fruit, this man,
a serpent,
and no adamant
people to curse
the pleasure that shall
deform her face.

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