Rick James in the Garden of Eden
God said Rick James, so Eve became
her own exit, leaving petals
in the maze in case of rapture.
What was she thinking? It was hard
to remember. Like everything else,
lust becomes inexact, buried
in leather. There were no more seeds
in wait, no drink in the well, no deceit
of greater ascension. Rick James separated
light from darkness, parted skies
and knees–– genesised all over the place,
arms snaked in gold.
When no one was around, the Lord forgave
Eve her tresspasses. Go, God said to her,
onto the glitter and grind of them.