Adam’s Rib was not,
she said, a barbecue joint
on Beale Street
in downtown Memphis,
nor a beloved Spencer Tracy
movie in which sidelong
glances with Kate Hepburn
meant more than audiences realized.
It most certainly was not
proof of the claim that woman,
born of man, was meant to be
subservient for all time
to the male of any species.
No, she said, Adam’s Rib
was merely God’s attempt
to get it right
the second time around.