Wax Mag #11 –

"EVE," Poem by Esme Coulter

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Wax Poetry and Art Magazine #11.

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September 15th, 2026

Wax Poetry and Art Magazine #11

Arbutus (Under 25) Contest #13 – First Place

EVE

by Esme Coulter

it was paradise, He liked to say. 
garden of eden, freedom. 
leave him. 
but it was easy to call it paradise. 
He never lived there with adam. 
 
adam 
who found pleasure in perambulating the paths, 
naming his naked surroundings, 
lion, lily, light. 
sparrow, stone, sky. 
he used to name me too 
as if i were unfinished until spoken by him. 
eve, evil, evening 
funny how he associated me with decline. 
 
i think he meant well,  
i suppose i can’t blame him for  
the walls he mistook for horizons. 
he thought fulfilment was a stillness that  
never stirred. 
he thought love was a shadow i should  
reside in, 
he thought our garden  
was enough. 
 
but he saw my silence as consent, 
and for that i must fault him. 
he didn’t expect 
eve, mother of all 
to be eve, the fall. 
 
so i divined my own way out. 
pay attention now, 
this is the part they never write down. 
 
i didn’t need temptation, seduction, persuasion, 
to leave the place He christened paradise. 
the apple was my exit strategy. 
so i sunk in my teeth hard, 
and the skin snapped as if i’d broken the sky, 
but all i’d done was finally break 
the God-awful silence. 
the wet flesh of the fruit  
gave way on my tongue, 
juice dripping from my chin. 
and the taste of a sweet sharpness 
reverberated from within. 
 
why they credit the serpent  
is beyond me. 
it lay in the grass, 
its whispers brushing my ankle, 
as it praised me for my sins. 
but i took the bite. 
i made the choice. 
 
i bit for freedom 
i bit for truth. 
adam gasped and choked at me, 
his pink throat a void, 
bare of any words. 
his eyes watered -  
but not for me. 
no, his eyes glistened with the realisation 
that control was only ever a myth 
he entertained himself with. 
 
exile? 
call it emancipation. 
i would’ve eaten a thousand 
apples before i shrunk myself back 
into eden, into a rib. 
and so i marched out of that garden 
with my head held high 
with a mouthful of liberation 
staining my tongue. 
original sin? 
i win. 


About the Poet
Esme Coulter resides in Bath, Somerset, England, United Kingdom. Read the poet's biography and Wax Poetry and Art publications on Esme Coulter's Artist Page.

Next in Wax Mag #11:
Of This Place
Poem by Marianne Neill

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