Detail of Holbein’s Adam and Eve
(Hans Holbein the Younger, 1517, Kunstmuseum, Basel)
Our eyes go first to her,
eyes half-closed, mouth half-open.
Her cheeks, her chin, her breasts,
her fingers, all full
as Paradise.
He is dark, his eyes open, lost,
his mustache long as a secret whisper,
one arm either helping her
or holding himself up using her,
his other arm fallen
from our sight.
Their eyes do not meet,
though, like actors in a cast
whose play has closed,
each shares his part of the regret.
Our eyes finally linger
on the apple held between them,
and the bruise left by a worm
into which they’ve bitten.
….
This poem is from the chapbook Down from the Sycamores: Poems by Richard Holinger (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/down-from-the-sycamores-poems-by-richard-holinger/
A multiple Pushcart Prize and a Best of the Net nominee, Richard Holinger has written essays, poetry, and fiction published in Chicago Quarterly Review, Southern Indiana Review, The Southern Review, Chautauqua, Boulevard, Witness, and elsewhere. His book of poetry, North of Crivitz, and collection of essays, Kangaroo Rabbits and Galvanized Fences, earned praise respectively from Kevin Stein, former Illinois Poet Laureate, and David Hamilton, Editor Emeritus of The Iowa Review. He earned a M.A. in English from Washington University (St. Louis) and holds a Ph.D. in Creative Writing from UIC. He has taught English and creative writing on the college and secondary school levels and currently lives in St. Charles, Illinois. More information at www.richardholinger.com
The Paddock Review 