I become Eve to your Adam,
though you have no discernable signs
of having recently lost a rib.
I bite anyway,
pierce red skin
with foreshadowing teeth. I hold
my breath. You take
my hand and for a moment I wish
it had been poisoned.
To Spin Or Not To Spin Static transporter taunts me infinitely across a room of mirrors, reminders of necessity. Cold motivators of perpetu...