Eve awakens to peaceful silence,
a world without sin. She opens her
bright eyes wide and,
for the first time, sees.
Eve awakens in the image of a god,
her eyes peering out through the
light dusting of snow fallen during
her creation. A seal barks, worshiping
another god nearer the bay.
Eve awakens, her fresh body
sunken into jungle loam. The air
is filled with warm water and birds
screeching as she reaches
toward the green-obscured sun.
Eve awakens from first slumber
and sits up, sand sticking
to her nakedness.
Adam and Coyote watch her,
awaiting the new-spoken to speak.
Eve awakens as red dust circles
overhead. She stands, a black line
on a blue horizon.
Eve awakens refreshed
as she’ll ever be—
and hungry.
She eyes the mangosteen,
its color that of needs unnamed,
falls untumbled.
Eve awakens deep in a cave
half up an ice-crevassed peak.
Smells of fresh ashes and
slumbering ursa enwomb
the mother of us all.
Eve awakens
to the pulsing eeech
of a cheap alarm clock and moans.
God, she says, already?
Theric Jepson has lived in small towns and big cities, and has witnessed raw nature in both, making him a firm believer in speaking with the crows. His writings at the intersection of environment and religion have been published in Wilderness Interface Zone, Psaltery & Lyre, Califragile, and are forthcoming in Blossom as the Cliffrose (Torrey House Press, 2021). For more, follow Theric on Twitter @thmazing.
