On the seventh day
there really was no rest.
It was the serpent
who approached God
with an apple,
crushed it with his powerful abs.
"Applesauce," he muttered,
but God told him to keep it to himself.
The snake curled into a question mark,
slithered over to Eve
who rubbed it all over her body,
called over Adam
who licked off every tasty drop
but left Eve panting.
"Don’t go," she cried, but Adam
had a shelter to build.
The serpent snickered
until Eve grabbed him
and showed him a wild time.
God ran to tell Adam,
who despondent at the news,
tried to hang himself
with a vine in the garden.
The serpent tried to explain
but the sauce gagged his syllables.
Eve cried, "Rape,"
and started stomping on the snake.
Now every time the snake shows up,
she shrieks and Adam smashes him
with a club.
God is pleased,
though everything goes to hell.
Michael Keshigian's poetry has appeared previously in The Aurorean, Sierra Nevada College Review, Oyez Review, Red River Review, ByLine, and Nanny Fanny among others. He is a 2003 Pushcart nominee and has three published chapbooks to his credit.