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Lilith
Barbara Cranford

I still haunt Adam’s nights.
Snug in Eden with compliant Eve,
he dreams of me,
of our long and languid hours

before lust had a name.
He drove me from his bed,
from Eden,
when I refused—

me, with eyes like pools of amethyst,
hair like molten amber,
me, who danced on air,
rode gales, flew.

On me Devil begat the Jinn.
They say I drank the blood of babes.
Women with child feared me,
who wanted only warmth.

Banished to the wilderness
I screech into the stormy night.
In the dark of the moon
my spirits rule.

Rabbis fear me, and the righteous.
In monasteries, barracks, prison cells—
in orgiastic fantasies
I flourish.

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