TABITHA GIDDINGS

Commended - 2024 Tower Poetry Competition, 'Mirror'

 

After Eve

Maybe I am Eve and I catch sight of someone in a car window.

Tint highlights every vulnerability - blemished skin,

Hunger lurking behind her eyes. My boyfriend tugs at my hand 

And I follow in his wake, glad to be dragged away from

That half-starved girl I glimpsed. Good God, he grins.

You are beautiful. As this settles in the pits of my stomach

I barely notice his hands set my cheeks alight. Suddenly 

I burn. In school they never taught us how quickly fire spreads.

I am engulfed by him, all him, his rough skin against mine,

a pinch almost mistaken for a kiss. Not quite. It’s all over

in a moment and I thank him when he’s done - what for,

I don’t know. He smiles, showing all his teeth. He tells me 

I taste of apples. I’m sorry, I say. I was deceived, and I ate.