The Fall of [Man] and the La[men]tation

Bex Hainsworth

after the diptych by Hugo van der Goes

Adam stands, awkward, animatronic,

rigid as a facsimile with daddy issues.

One cut-out hand fusses with Eve’s hair,

but her attention is elsewhere.

Body curved like a rib cage, she is at ease

with her bumps and bends. Pear-shaped,

with an apple in each hand, and an iris

bobbing between her legs. Its blue head

is turned to her heat, her triangle of sun.

Eve’s belly is already swelling with life,

her womb creating tiny bones out of itself.

The serpent watches her, feminine face tilted,

auburn hair brushing virgin scales, daughter,

girl-cryptid. In their eyes, Eve sees

her descendants gathered around a body,

hears the cries of a woman for the child

she made herself. Fingers form a circle

around damp fruit, from mother to mother,

she knows redemption isn’t immaculate.

BEX HAINSWORTH is a poet and teacher based in Leicester, UK. Her work has appeared in takahē, The McNeese Review, Poetry Wales, Nimrod and Columbia Journal. She is the author of two pamphlets: Walrussey (The Black Cat Poetry Press, 2023) and Circulaire (Written Off Publishing, 2025).