Photo by Stanislava Stanchy via Unsplash

Out of Eden

Eve

What is the meaning
. of this love
. loaded with words?
Doesn’t he know
. his rib
cannot hold me?

Close nearby, my first
.                               spring splits
.                open, leaves
bursting out.                Such plain,
. aimless brains.
Nothing is easy,
. not even this air,
. rolling in
and out, a boulder
.                caught in the windpipe.

The Apple

The days are shorter now.
. While God slept,
. the roots
have outgrown their trees.
. Angels don’t soar
. with the same
mild ecstasy.

.                               What do I know
.                about these angels
who pretend to be
.                               human?
Their faces elongated into beaks.
.                Their wings
.                               flapping like black
laundry.
.                               I know
nothing about angels,
.                                              too little
about humans, unless
.                I am one of them.
. Am I?
Who’s to say?

Sin

Awakening to a world
.                               that doesn’t care
if I’m alive. The tree
.                covers itself with leaves.
I walk underneath
.                               bare, unsheltered—
a bone
.                bereft of its flesh.

The duties of living
.                are calling: small
.                               orchid mouths.
Forgive them their hunger.
.                                              My body
blooms like a promise
.                               from the red sod
of this garden.

Flight

He held the sword
.                against the void
of my mouth,
.                               defiant words
dropping like arrows.
.                Trapped in the bow,
my fear of tenderness.

The air felt heavy,
. chilled on my chest,
a wounded bird
. ensconced
in its coffin.

. Tomorrow, the light
. may be kinder.

It’s strange how things
.                               turn out: one day,
I’m sitting alone
.                on a windowsill,
ninth floor, a high-rise building
.                               somewhere
in eastern Europe; the next,

. I’m flying

over the ocean
.                               toward my new
.                life with all its
new anxieties:
.                               who was I kidding
when I convinced myself
.                I could leave them behind?

. Tomorrow, the light
. may be kinder.

The day I left, my family
.                crammed in the car,
unwilling to let go.
.                               Seven of us
.                in a small car,
bags and suitcases
.                piled up to our chins.
.                               I didn’t feel
I was leaving.
.                It was funny.
.                               I felt guilty
for not being able to suffer.