Eve – Kristiana Reed


From the moment she drew

Adam’s breath

she knew the ribs

beneath her breasts

were stolen.

The bones from which

she grew

were not hers to keep.

Her hands, man’s vessels

to hold their heartache,

massage egos

and cradle their droopy

eyed future.

Her feet, aching

to march not pace

to the sound of man’s

heartbeat and rage.

Her knees, finished

with praying to a God

who disowned her,

tired of kneeling

before men

who tell her

this was her purpose

from birth.

With the passing of years,

each bone would be retrieved,

polished and stored

in a museum,

next to the pedestals

men had placed her upon.


All that remained hers

was her spirit,

which departed

back into her mother’s hearth

of soil and roots

to birth new women

whose bodies are their own;

to walk freely

on this Eve given Earth.

Adam’s Rib- Christine Ray

Adams rib 3

Adam’s rib

aches beneath my breast

titanium splinter

piercing my soul

constantly seeking

to penetrate my self-worth

deliver shame directly

to my bloodstream like a toxin

demands I atone

for eating the forbidden fruit

I still taste the crisp

sweet tart taste

of knowledge on my tongue

and will always


for more


© 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved



Adam and Eve/Varnika Jain




And ravaged.

When she gathered enough courage

To tell someone about it

She was told to stay mum

To go on as if nothing happened.

To cover up.

To not incite.

To take caution.

To not invite.

Like she had asked for it.

Like her body,

Which she was born with,

And in which she had no say

Was, for all purposes, a crying shame.

They say, what’s in a name?

Well, Adam ate the apple too,

But it’s Eve who’s forever to blame.

Varnika Jain is prone to having verbal epiphanies in the midst of all the cacophony surrounding her life.  She is a voracious reader, vociferous eater and a vehemently passionate writer. You can read more of her writing at Moonlighting Scrivener where you can find her changing the world, one word at a time.