The Gospel According to Eve

I hear the serpent murmur with dissatisfaction at my fine armour, at my love of the man that I am merged with. I stroll across the lilting marigold fields and I hear the serpent slither in the bracken in the ditch running along the field. The serpent hisses a proclamation that falls down to the soil.

"There is an evening coming in across the fields, one never seen before, the marrow of the Sun is on display, dancing with boneless legs. These lights are not lamps, they are an intricate composition of raspberry ripple flesh ripe for sin wrapped in white connective tissue which liquors unto the dust of the grave."

I know not the words he speaks. I shoo him away, a pet that is not wanted, and go about gathering lilies.

The serpent bides his time and waits for me in the black heart of an apple pip.