“Madam, I’m Adam” by Morgan Adams

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If, as he says,
this strip of trees, a make

to wood enough of this home
for snakes and runners, is a place

for murder—those dwellers,
says he, body the crisis,

give it chances. Then only
the jungle comes, swallows

the watches he and his Eve
made. Names but tell,

but names
made Eve his, and he watches

the swallows. Come, jungle,
the only. Then chance it.

Give, crisis the body.
He says dwellers, those

murders for place, are runners,
and snake for home. This. Of enough

wood to make a tree of. Strip
this? says he. As if.

Morgan Adams,
In Nonestica
Accents Publishing

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