Gala by Ayala Sella.

Eve once fed me
an apple from her garden.
Its name was Gala
and I was wearing
large green mittens
and dirty cream shoes
descending a long escalator
in the city
after Eden.
Adam wasn’t there
and we were both
pregnant smoking
cigarettes without tar
and drinking tall silver
cans of Japanese beer
after the night of the
lunar eclipse.
I think Adam was
off somewhere
reading about Socialism
and punk rock on the toilet
(but we weren’t sure.)

Ayala Sella is a writer, living and working in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Born in Israel, she moved to the United States at the age of four, and has spent the past years traveling between these two countries. Her first book, a collection of poetry entitled soliloquies of a crosswalker has just been released by Wasteland Press. Her first interview will be published in the KGB Lit Magazine in August and her work is forthcoming in the New York Quarterly. She will be participating in the monthly storytelling series at The Bodega on Sunday, August 7th, at Bluestockings Bookstore on August 18th and at Cafe Orwell on August 28th.