Douglas Allen Rhodes

Oh, Lady Lillith,
who are you,
killer of children,
or refuser of motherhood?

You are the mystery
that all women should be.
Which is why
I hate you.

You were the original bitch,
the woman who refused the bottom,
refused to submit,
refused my advances.

You couldn't see
why you should be
the lesser.
Wouldn't accept
the natural order
of our Father's world.

You didn't leave
our paradise,
though.
You didn't leave me.
It was my choice,
I threw you out.

I threw you out
and found another,
a mother,
a submissive,
wifely child,
who knew her place,
whose whole existence
was created,
just for me.

And what would you have done,
if I hadn't thrown you out?
Would you have eaten of the tree?

No, you wouldn't have.
You never cared
what was evil or good.

You would have laughed at the snake,
laughed at how wise,
and strong,
and powerful,
he thought he was.

You would have laughed
at the way
he held himself
erect
when trying
to beguile you.

You would have laughed at him
with that tinkling, little laugh
you used to use on me.
The one that told me
I was silly,
and small,
and not superior
at all,
not to you.