Known to Eve and Me

His tan and golden self, coiled in a threadbare carapace, beckoned to my sympathy. I hoisted him, shoulders above the crowded plaza, lifting his cool, slick body toward the altar of sunlight. He was guileless, and slid into my embrace. We shared seeded rolls and breakfast on the mountaintop. Love's warmth and Aton's sun disc caressed his skin, and once-dulled scales became sugared ginger, amber drops of beryl on the tongue. His lidless eye slid sideways, and he rose into my deepest yearning, bringing gifts of ready rhythms, and hourly wound around my chest, holding me fast in taut security. Then, glistening like diamonds strewn upon a black girl's belly, he left me. And nothing remains. Beneath my left breast, two perfect identical punctures, through which I claim the air I breathe and the slithering sound of my own skin moving in the dark.