Eve and the Fruit

Rachel Tully

my parents come and visit me often. they ask me how i am doing and without thinking i lie.

they take me to church on sunday. we sit together, yet I feel farther from them than I ever have before.

a man in a white robe comes and speaks about their god.

how he is right and holy. how he is merciful. the man says their god loves me but i do not feel this love the man says their god sees me but i wonder if he sees the way i look at Her.

i leave grieving for a life i will never be able to live.

and in my sorrow, i look up at the sky and see a rainbow.

and i know it is not a sign from their god but a sign from mine. i haven’t prayed a day in my life but i know my god, and my god lives in Her eyes. in the palms of Her hands and in the curves of Her hips their god does not hunger nor thirst, but mine does. my god thirsts for love, for passion for sex my god has eyes that roll back in pleasure when i trace my fingertips, gentle as a breeze, against the curves of Her thighs. my god says yes. their god does not love or accept me but She does. She holds me at night, and when She kisses me, i hear all the hosts of heaven and choirs of angels sing, Alleluia. Thanks be to God.