What if they’d never touched it,
never wanted to disturb the bees
swarming the orchard,
sticky before pollinating
the many fruit trees—fat figs,
blood oranges,
pomegranates so red
they made the apples look brown.
Some people say it was olives
they weren’t to eat.
Or seeds. Those sunflowers
in the garden—
a distraction! Adam wanted
to play hide-and-seek,
so Eve crouched
between the stalks
while he ran in circles,
searching wildly,
yoo-hooing every few seconds,
till he stumbled over her.
And who needed knowledge?
It was overrated—
thinking about free will,
existence, their role
in the garden. What was
the point? Perhaps
it had been wheat
they weren’t supposed to eat.
Gold, yes, but brittle,
husked and dry.
Or what if there’d been
no forbidden food?
All those sermons
and great art:
Michelangelo’s ceiling,
Bosch’s left panel,
Dürer’s engraving,
The Fall of Man,
Adam and Eve,
curls in their hair,
privates sheathed by giant leaves,
Eve receiving
a palm-sized globe
from that twisted serpent.
What if it had been a stone?