Heavy hands and heavy hearts

If the bible is true
Then Eve was made from Adam’s rib
And all the women that came after
Were made to love men born from dirt,
And not me,
I was born from a thunderstorm,
Fresh rainfall cradled in a crevice, pooled
I lay on my back long enough for tadpoles to turn to frogs, hop away
From them I will choose my bride, reverse the fairy tale, claim my own frog princess
She will clean up nicely, but keep her web toes
My lady will love to swim, while I
sit on the bank, basking in the sun
Trying not to be jealous of foreign waters