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.