"On The Seventh Day We Shall Not Rest" by Elissa Lash

We’re silhouettes on a mudflap - flashing go go girls on neon signs - naked daughters of Eve. 

The bible proclaims Eve was made from Adam’s rib, the curved slender bone that protects his heart, blames Eve because she talked with the snake and ate the apple. We know Eve’s shame - not that we’ve read the bible, heathen queens of the night that we are.

We’ve talked to snakes - we’ve listened to them too. These conversations had nothing to do with fruit. 

*

Every morning, we watch the snakes sun themselves on rocks. Later, as the air cools the snakes slither back inside - leaving the light behind. 

In dusk we conceal our blood red hearts within our jagged shells - our pearls remain buried under our slippery oysters. 

In the smoke-thick air where bodies are sold, it’s always night - dark as permission. In the dark we’re Lilith - Adam’s secret - his first wife - his nocturnal beast. Everyone said Lilith was a whore - but she was a demon. Like her - we’ve learned to tuck our forked tails between our legs - hide the flames that live inside our mouths - stay inside a small black hole.

*

Mornings we repent before going onstage. We clean the small black holes of our bodies with wipes made for babies - the babies whose breath Lilith supposedly stole. 

We cover our bruises with skin-colored cream. We spray ourselves with perfume that smells of peaches. We smile. We remember to see ourselves as the audience sees us. 

The snakes and the rakes and the jakes.

They see us as forbidden fruit. They see us as whores. They see us as demons.

*

When we eat - we avoid the bruised flesh of the apple - although sour tasting - we prefer the truth.

There’s never enough.

The truth is - Our legs, our ass, our smile. 

The truth is - We’re still in the same small black hole.

We check our teeth for apple flesh - then we dance - the serpent coiled at our feet.

From the author:

On The Seventh Day We Shall Not Rest is an exploration of the sex work experience - of being part of a mythology and a collective. Elissa’s writing has been featured in The Rumpus, CRAFT, Atticus Review, Bust Magazine, The Forge Literary Magazine, Tangled Locks and others. She won the CRAFT Literary essay contest and the Silver Rose Flash Fiction prize. Her prose has been nominated for the Best of the Net and a Pushcart Prize and listed as Notable by Best American Essays 2025. She’s the recipient of a Creative Individual grant from the Mass Cultural Council. Whore Mother Crone, her memoir in progress, about being a sex worker and mother, was a finalist for the Kenyon Review's Developmental Editing Fellowship. When not writing or reading, she practices real estate, serves on the board of her local theatre, performs improv comedy, and builds bonfires with her witchy friends.