Treasure Island

Federico García Lorca

(5 June 1898 – 19 August 1936 / Fuente Vaqueros)

Adam


A tree of blood soaks the morning
where the newborn woman groans.
Her voice leaves glass in the wound
and on the panes, a diagram of bone.

The coming light establishes and wins
white limits of a fable that forgets
the tumult of veins in flight
toward the dim cool of the apple.

Adam dreams in the fever of the clay
of a child who comes galloping
through the double pulse of his cheek.

But a dark other Adam is dreaming
a neuter moon of seedless stone
where the child of light will burn.

Submitted: Monday, March 29, 2010
Edited: Tuesday, September 13, 2011

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  • Gina Layog (10/25/2010 2:53:00 PM)

    Adam's bone...
    where Eve began and was formed...
    She was made for him and him for her....
    The apple made Him choose her...
    Exiled, outcast...against the world....
    She bore him a child....
    Pained, to pay for the bone,
    a rebirth.... a hope that this child...
    would one day pay for their error..... (Report) Reply

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