My body is a site of charitable giving.
It has spent its day jiggling up and down the streets with a winning smile,
rattling its contents,
hoping for, willing, sleep at its breast in return.
It offers open arms:
Spills milk over infant cries.
So the eve, for this Eve, brings a feeling of weariness,
And when Adam returns to the fold, wanting his share,
I am tempted by pudding.
Something had to give.
This time it’s him.
But as we trade places, negotiate a do-si-do,
in our dance of give and take,
I feel my endless, porous, generous body
receive most wholly,
when it gives in, gives up… gives out.
So I recount my day’s takings –
find myself rich.