Am I my own Eve

Taking from what is not mine

To fulfill what I don’t need?

If what I take is not a glossy apple atop a forbidden tree

And temptation doesn’t coil green with envy

Then why is it that I still am drawn

To take liberally

From my own time and care

Which I give to others

Who discard my affection;

Perhaps I should be more greedy with myself

If I was given the world

In an agreement to keep myself whole

Then why is it that I

Continue to run with the scissors

That cut ties with my own disposition

And leave me longing

For others to validate my being

And why does it feel as though

The the flood runs rampant

And I wash myself out by giving myself away

But there is no arc to save me

And I am wiped away in the deluge

What if I am my own Eve

And the only sin

Is not a sin to mankind,

But rather the injustice I do to myself?

Today, I asked the sea if it wanted to switch bodies with me. “Just for a bit,” I promised. It was late afternoon by then, and the birds had already flown home, so we switched, just to see what it was like.

My energy emits a sage green 

An intimacy through the fog and shadows at dawn 

Cornell has always been at the forefront of student sexuality advocacy and Brenda relayed the fact that we have “the second oldest queer student group at any college in the country, second after Columbia.

Generations of myself

pool into my cheeks,

bled-out versions of identity

I let dry into dense clots,

clots of Chinese plums and persimmons

They say that a mirror is supposed to reflect what you truly are,

Revealing the most intimate version of yourself on the looking glass, 

But why, whenever I look in my own mirror, 

Do I want to claw my skin out?