Inside my Eden I can find no snake.
There’s not one I could look to and believe,
obey and then be ruined by and leave
because of, bearing children and an ache.

I circle down on Eden from above,
searching the fields in solitude and love
like a high hawk. He would never forsake

this place that’s made again of memory;
he’d wait in that tree below me, spring
out towards my growing shadow, let it bring
a sudden hope that he could coil free;

but he’s not here. Only mountains that curve,
and dip around the valley when I swerve,
settle with dark heights, as I near the tree.

First published in Eve (Story Line Press, 1997).