EVE'S GARDEN

EVE'S GARDEN

 

Sweet swift mango sugar, fleet dripping juice of peach;

firm, red allure of cherry, wise purple of the plum;

we taste time, wrinkled brown, waste time, feel olive’s cool rebuke.

 

In that harem of hard hearts that work against your tongue -

rosary-beaded black, processed, spit indulgences,

casual, a visitor endowing time.

 

Marvel at the risk of Eve who lusts for fleshy fruit;

she picks wild caps that pray alone in wood; 

shrinks not from banishment, nor angel’s fiery sword;

her hands sing in cool, dark earth with worm and slug.   

 

In the uneasy garden of the night where weeds tell tales,

I would be so brave to chance life full as she.

Flies buzz cheer while form assembles down below;

a child floats in her salty sea, waiting to be born.

 

Reviews

[Inessa]

Perhaps Eve was more than just the first female created, but also the first feminist as well! She dared to take the risk and taste the forbidden fruit, knowing that punishment would be waiting in the shadows. That aside, your poem is brimming with tasty imagery and description all of its own. Made for an interesting read in my brief moment of rest and respite. ❤