A helper suitable
In the dream, I can see Eve–
crouching in child’s pose
at the slamming moment
of the first shame.
Her head is bowed,
hair matted towards God
and the dream thinks in her voice,
Why does the sweet grass tickle my breast?
Why does the breeze cool my wet legs?
What if Eve
had looked up from herself, neck straining,
and pulled Him under her,
crouching over God?
Originally from Minnesota, Greer McAllister currently attends Sarah Lawrence College. She is an editor at Love & Squalor Literary Magazine and has recently been published in Clickbait by The Poetry Society of New York.