And the Lord God formed Adam out of dust…
and you, my man, are as much a man as he, but
when your lips meet mine
there is no death or dust about it.
Nothing was ever so unlike dust
—unremarkable particles tossed on wind—
nothing was ever so unlike dust
warm, strong, gentle,
…and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.
now, your breath on my face
is that same breath.
O my Adam,
breathe your life into me
before we remember that we are dust.
Alena Casey is a poet, writer, and mother of three currently living in Nebraska. Her poetry has been published with The Road Not Taken, The Society of Classical Poets, and The Author’s Journal of Inventive Literature, among others. She sometimes blogs at strivingafterink.wordpress.com.
Photo is in Public Domain.